Blackbird Fly
by banshee-of-scotland
Summary: SS/HG plus additional pairing. Hermione goes back in time to the Marauders' Hogwarts, but why? What is going to happen to her future . . . present . . . past? Time travel is just plain confusing.
1. Chapter 1

Blackbird Fly

_**One**_

Severus Snape crept across the grounds; he was silent, stealthy as he moved, his robes fluttering about his ankles. He needed to be alone to think, and he couldn't do it in the Slytherin common room or the library. He was being watched, he was sure of it. Snape peered back over his shoulder as naturally as he could while keeping up a brisk pace towards the trees by the lake.

He shoved aside the creeping vines of the willow tree, figuring that he would be shielded from anyone who intended to bother him or spy on him. Snape pulled out his wand and set a few basic wards on the tree to ensure his privacy before pacing and murmuring to himself.

"You look a bit mental when you do that," a blithe voice said, interrupting his thoughts.

A girl was slumped lazily against the tree, one foot dangling in the open air below.

"Go away," he snapped. Snape couldn't be bothered to be courteous right now; he had too much on his mind and she was intruding.

"I was here first, you know," she replied coolly, jumping down from her perch.

"Chase," he sneered as he recognizing her. "I don't really care if you were here first," Snape mocked, adding, "Mudblood," as an afterthought.

"Subtle as ever, Severus," Chase drawled, her dark eyes glinting malevolently. She left, sauntering out through the vines around the tree, chuckling to herself as she walked back towards the castle.

Good. He was alone again. Now, Snape could think over the . . . intriguing proposition he had been offered today. He sat against the trunk of the tree, pondering to himself and working through various scenarios in his head.

He was drawn back to the real world when a loud popping noise sounded across the grounds, shattering the wards he had placed around the tree. He grasped his wand again, his knuckles white. The adrenaline rushed through his body as his eyes flicked around the grounds, searching for the cause of the sound.

Chase was lying across a boulder on the path up to the castle, gazing at the stars. She heard the sound too, leaping up from her supine position to assume her dueling stance, prepared for the worst. Snape raced towards her, catching her unawares and knocking her to the ground. He grabbed Chase's shoulders once he wrenched her wand from her hand, nearly snapping it in his panic.

"Are you insane?" he hissed, eyes wild. "What the bloody hell were you thinking?"

She took a moment to recover from the shock before whispering, "I thought you did it. It wasn't me, anyway and I don't think anyone else is out here. Now, please let go of me; you're hurting me."

"Sorry," he muttered reflexively as she pushed him off her. They stood slowly, him offering a hand up and she refusing; Snape watched anxiously as she pushed up her sleeves, revealing dark bruises on the near translucent skin.

She arched an eyebrow before pulling her wand out and healing them quickly. Chase then laid her wand across her palm, whispering, "Point me."

It spun rapidly for a few seconds before pointing towards the Quidditch pitch. She darted off, sprinting, Snape in hot pursuit.

Breathless, they reached the pitch, Chase laying her wand in her palm and using the Point-Me spell again; the night was so dark they were unable to see across the field. It led the odd pair to the far goal posts, where a girl was shuddering on the ground, as though holding back tears.

Chase knelt down next to her, resting a hand on her back to soothe her, using a low, calming tone. "Hush now, love. It's all right; you're safe and we'll help you." She turned to face the bewildered Snape. "Severus, can you do a Patronus?"

He nodded.

"A full Patronus?"

He nodded again, his inky hair mirroring his exasperation.

"Send yours to Madam Pomfrey; I'm sending mine to Professor Dumbledore." The two dictated their messages to the silvery creatures, eventually leaving the doe and the dragon sprint away through the night. Chase tactfully ignored his unusually feminine Patronus.

Snape knelt beside the two girls while they waited, his wand lit to try to see whatever injuries the stranger had. She was young, probably around his age, with wild brown hair that fanned out around her head like a lion's mane.

He glanced over at Chase, who was furrowing her brow as she patted the girl's back. "Chase," he said thoughtfully, "what's your name?"

"Isolde. And by the way, I don't know if I'm Muggle-born— seeing as I was adopted."

He bowed his head, feeling guilt sweep through him. "Oh."

She shrugged. "You're the epitome of Slytherin when you want to be, but you never remember one thing: there's always more than you know. You just can't take things at face value."

He nodded, respect in his black eyes. "Is she awake, Isolde?" he asked, testing the name.

"I don't think so. Poor thing, she's so frightened. I wonder what happened to her . . ." Her voice trailed off as Madam Pomfrey bustled over, conjuring a stretcher for the girl and levitating her onto it.

"Professor Dumbledore is waiting for you two," she said sternly. "You best hurry. I'll take her," she added, referring to the girl now laid out on the stretcher.

They nodded and began their trek to the Headmaster's office in a companionable but worried silence.


	2. Chapter 2

Blackbird Fly

_**Two**_

Professor Dumbledore was waiting for Severus and Isolde at the base of his staircase, which was easier than waiting while the two shouted random sweets at the gargoyle guarding the office. He smiled at them, eyes ever twinkling, and followed them up the revolving staircase.

He strode easily to the desk, his garish robes trailing behind him, and took a seat, folding his hands on top of the desk and smiling pleasantly.

"I received your Patronus, Miss Chase, and I will meet the young lady you found as soon as she is well. After that, she and I will determine what happens. Now, could you tell me what happened?"

Isolde and Severus looked at one another, each daring the other to start talking. Isolde took a deep breath and began to tell her side of the story after shooting Severus a quick glare.

"Well, I was climbing trees down by the lake when Severus found me and told me someone at the castle was looking for me. I headed back and all of a sudden, I heard a weird noise. I ran into Severus again and we decided to investigate."

Severus gave her a grateful glance for skimming over the confrontation under the tree before he began to speak. "I was looking for Isolde to tell her that someone was looking for her—like she said—and she headed back up to the castle. I was skipping rocks across the surface of the lake when I heard the popping sound. I saw Isolde walking back up to the castle and caught up to her. Then we went to investigate the sound."

"I used the Point-Me spell, and it led us to the Quidditch Pitch, where we saw the girl lying on the ground. We each sent our Patronus; mine went to you while Severus sent his to Madam Pomfrey. We cared for the girl until you arrived, and you know what happened after that," Isolde finished, ending their lie with finesse. Both Slytherins wore stony, blank-slate faces; Dumbledore would learn nothing more from them.

"Mr. Snape, Miss Chase, thank you both for telling me what happened. I will investigate this incident immediately. You may return to your dormitory; I will give you a note as it is past curfew."

Dumbledore gave the note to Snape and nodded to Isolde. "Stay together, or I do believe Mr. Filch will be only too willing to put you in detention for breaking curfew."

Severus and Isolde left together, still quiet, each one trying to find a way to break the semi-awkward silence. Neither was really willing to begin a conversation, as their imaginations had supplied several awkward, stilted situations, each worse than the one before.

"Do you think she'll be in school with us?" Severus asked suddenly.

"I don't know. I mean, there's always a chance, right?" she replied uncomfortably. Isolde wasn't very good at dealing with people her own age, preferring to keep to herself or talk to adults. She was, however, open-minded enough to know that Severus was the same way.

"I guess."

Severus gave the wall guarding the Slytherin common room the password once they got there, waiting chivalrously for Isolde to pass through before following. The two stood awkwardly in the center of the common room, grateful that the rest of their house had already retired.

"Erm . . . thanks for your help," she said, still feeling a bit awkward. It wasn't easy to forget the years of neglect and occasional torment Severus and the gang of Slytherins had put her through, but maybe he was just as lonely. She bit her lower lip, something she hadn't done since she was a child.

"Severus!" she called as he reached the tunnel to the boys' rooms. When he turned back, she continued, saying, "Sit with me tomorrow at breakfast?"

His impassive facade faded for a moment, the shock registering on his face. The two hadn't spoken before now except to exchange taunts in the corridors, but now she was asking for a cease-fire, really; maybe she was asking for his friendship.

Severus responded with a curt nod, leaving Isolde to wind her way back to her dormitory; both anxious and confused about what tomorrow would bring.


	3. Chapter 3

Before this installment, I would like to thank those of you who have reviewed and those of you who currently have my story on alert. It is a high compliment to a poor, first-time fan fiction author like myself and I do hope to find more reviews. Constructive criticism is appreciated, but flames . . . not so much.

Thank you.

* * *

Blackbird Fly

Three

Breakfast the next day saw Severus and Isolde sitting together, leaving the other Slytherins to puzzle over why he was sitting with her (as he usually sat on the outskirts of a small gang of seventh year boys) and why she was sitting with anyone. The conversation was shallow—discussing classes and such— until Dumbledore rose from his seat at the High table to stand at the podium.

"Students, if I could have your attention, I would like to make an announcement." The Hall gradually quieted, allowing Dumbledore to continue.

"Hogwarts has a new student! Miss Fermier, please come here."

The strange girl from the night before appeared at the doors to the Great Hall and began the long march to the stool next to the podium which Dumbledore had conjured for her.

"Professor McGonagall, the Sorting Hat, please." The witch rose and pulled a shrunken box from her robes. She waved her wand to bring it to its normal size and pulled the battered old Hat from it. She placed it on the girl's head, and the entire hall watched as a fierce mental battle ensued.

The girl twisted and turned in her seat, whispering something fierce to the Hat, which seemed to nod and frown, perhaps in confusion. It was easily the most curious Sorting any of the students had ever seen, not that Severus and Isolde were surprised. The Hat opened its brim, only to close it again when the girl whispered to him once more, shaking its tip in confusion. The battle between girl and sentient accessory could have gone on longer, but Professor McGonagall delicately cleared her throat, an obvious sign that the Sorting of one student had gone long enough; the Hat didn't seem to be paying attention, still embroiled in arguing with the girl over her House.

As if the Hat had read her mind rather than that of its current occupant, it came to a momentous decision.

"SLYTHERIN!" it bellowed, the girl flushed from the Sorting. Dumbledore removed the Hat and pointed her to the right table.

"I do hope," he said, addressing the Slytherin table, "that you will make your newest seventh-year welcome in your House. I understand that this is an unusual case, but I have faith in the good standing of Slytherin House."

And with that, he took his seat at the High table while the newest Hogwarts student tentatively approached her House table.

She went timidly and was hit with unfriendly glances from a few of the other girls; the tension and suspicion was creating a thick cloud of animosity around the table, giving outsiders around them a general feeling of discomfort and paranoia. Isolde and Severus exchanged a quick look before waving her over to the empty seats around them.

"Thanks," she said gratefully, sitting down and pulling a plate of pastries towards her.

"It's nothing. We found you last night and were hoping that you were alright," Isolde said, offering her a platter piled high with bacon and sausage. "Besides that, it's terrible coming into a new school."

"Yes," the girl agreed, "although it feels like I know Hogwarts already." She paused. "What's your name?"

"Isolde Chase," she replied, extending her hand. "And yours?"

"Helene Fermier." They shook hands, smiling, and Helene stared at Snape expectantly.

"Severus Snape," he said, scowling and offering his own hand.

Her brown eyes widened and she took his hand a bit more stiffly than she had Isolde's. "N-nice to meet you," she said, sounding a little choked.

Isolde tried to break the awkward moment, noticing her two companions' discomfort. "What are you taking, Helene?"

"Oh, erm . . . hang on," she said, digging through her bag. Severus leaned in, interested. Triumphantly, she pulled out her schedule and began reading. "I have Transfiguration, Charms, Arithmancy, DADA, Potions and Ancient Runes."

"Well, Severus and I both have Transfiguration, Charms, Potions and DADA. I'll have Ancient Runes with you, but I don't have Arithmancy. I kept Divination and Care of Magical Creatures." Helene gave her a surprised look. "I'm good at it," Isolde replied defensively, "and the professor suspects I have Seer blood somewhere."

Helene and Severus both shook their heads, Severus rolling his eyes. "I have Arithmancy," he offered. "I can always take you there if you want."

"Thank you." She gave him a cautious smile, and he realized how pretty she was. He had noticed girls before (he was a teenage boy after all), but she was different. She was cute; even Isolde wasn't like that, she was just too unusual. Helene had wild hair that he wanted to touch and peachy skin that he wanted to caress and doe brown eyes he wanted to gaze into . . . Severus stopped the train of thought before he got too disgusted with himself for being so sappy.

Isolde stood up. "Time to go, kids; we'll be late for class otherwise."

She grinned as the two packed their bags, and the three left for Transfiguration, each reveling in the blooming friendship.

They were interrupted when Severus let out a quiet yelp. James Potter stood behind him, wand pointed at Severus's back. Isolde whipped out her own wand, quick as a flash, and sent a quick Tongue-Tying Hex at him.

"Potter," she snarled. "Attacking when your opponent's back is turned? That's low, even for you. Or maybe you just know that he'd kick your arse in fair combat."

Sirius Black stepped forward then. "That's unfair, Chase. He's done it just as often as James has."

"But you," she growled, indicating the Marauders gathered around James, "are four. He is one. Get over it, Black, and grow up." Her eyes were hard as she stared them down, fully immersed in the conflict, her mind screaming for battle. James sent her a pleading look, obviously begging her to undo the hex and set his foolish tongue free. A splash of red hair parted the sea of black robes forming around them.

Lily rushed forward, clinging to James's arm. "What the hell, Snape? What did you do this time?"

He ignored her, scowling. It was always his bloody fault, even when they were friends. How could she be so blind to the world around her and yet manage to manipulate him so easily?

"Ask Potter," Isolde drawled slowly, her voice dripping with sardonic amusement. Lily's eyes widened and she gripped her wand tightly, her knuckles white around the polished length of wood. She was a strong witch, that much was true, but she had the failing of impetuousness—a common flaw among Gryffindors.

As Isolde, Severus and Helene walked away, Lily raised her wand, lowering herself to the Marauders she had despised throughout most of her time in Hogwarts. Before she could shoot off a quick spell, the Hall rang with a sharp, "_Expelliarmus_!"

Helene Fermier was holding Lily's wand when the chaos calmed, a triumphant smirk marring her bubbly features. She casually tossed the wand back at the fuming Gryffindor as Severus watched, awe-struck.

Perhaps she would fit in with Slytherin House after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Blackbird Fly

_**Four**_

Severus was shocked, amazed, surprised and any synonym of the three. He'd never had people to stand up for him. The other Slytherins never stuck up for him, even though they claimed that he was "important to the cause." It was part of why he still hadn't given them an answer yet; he doubted he could remain undeclared for much longer.

The three sat together, Helene and Severus at the second to last table and Isolde sitting behind them. She approved of the romance that had obviously begun to blossom (at least on Severus's part) and planned to encourage and nourish his crush. Isolde was a watcher; her observational skills were sharp and she had watched him for years. She hadn't seen him take interest in a girl romantically since Evans. Her lip curled derisively. The poor boy had followed her like a lost puppy, and it still wasn't good enough for her, the blind fool.

She glowered through class, unable to pull herself out of the intense darkness within, as Helene and Severus shot sly glances at one another from the corners of their eyes. When the bell rang to end class, she swept out of the classroom without a word to anyone, brooding.

Severus and Helene didn't notice, too wrapped up in one another. There was only one boy who watched her with scrutinizing grey eyes and he followed her while Severus and Helene made their way to Arithmancy.

Helene was incredibly confused at this point. It wasn't that she disliked Severus or Isolde, but there were a few things that just didn't make sense with what she knew.

To begin with, she simply couldn't reconcile Severus with the Snape she knew. She saw kindness and softness in him, as well as a slight streak of optimism or perhaps idealism—two things that she had never associated with Severus Snape. This Snape was young and hearty, his skin like alabaster and his hair silken and inky. His eyes were the root of the biggest difference: the Snape she knew and (on occasion) reviled had defeated eyes while Severus had eyes like opals—there was a fire in them, like embers in the pitch of bleak winter. They meant light, a never-dying hope for the Wizarding World and the world as a whole. They were entrancing. Helene just wished that she hadn't made such a fool of herself.

Nor did she remember any mention of an Isolde being in the Order from anyone, really. She could recall asking Remus about the stranger in the photograph of the first Order of the Phoenix that they had been shown, but Sirius and Snape (as both men had been in the kitchen when they had really gotten a chance to look at it) had begun to argue, and the mysterious stranger had been forgotten in the excitement of the verbal duel.

Could that be her intense new friend, and if so, why was she taboo?

How did she know all of this, you ask?

Helene Fermier did not exist.

Helene is considered by those who study the etymology of names to be the uncorrupted form of Helen; in this case, Helen of Troy, the most beautiful woman in the world. She was married to Menelaus, who was famous for his red hair, but she fell in love with Paris, prince of Troy, who "kidnapped" and married her. Her daughter of legend was called Hermione.

Fermier means farmer in French, just as Granger means farmer in Old English.

Helene Fermier was Hermione Granger, who was now stuck in the past and had no idea how to get back to her time.

To make matters even worse, she was beginning to like Severus Snape in "that way." She had tried to like Ron, Merlin knows she tried to like Ron but it was just so fundamentally wrong, like having a crush on your brother or equally close family member. Now she liked Professor Snape, or rather, Severus Snape, who would one day become the Professor Snape the world knew and loathed. How was that right at all? It was times like this that she wished her life was more boring.

She could have stayed a Muggle, or been Sorted into Hufflepuff . . .

"Helene," Severus said, furrowing his brow. She snapped to attention, coming out of her trance.

"I'm sorry," she replied. "What were you saying?"

"I just wanted to know if you had gone to the Slytherin dungeons yet. I could show you, if you want."

She agreed, and he offered her his arm, ever a gentleman. When Hermione placed a delicate hand on his arm, she was amazed to find it warm and strong, muscular and lean.

Hermione looked up at him to catch him staring at her wistfully. "Severus," she said carefully, "are you okay?"

"What?" he asked dazedly. He looked at Helene again, berating himself for being so careless. "I'm perfectly alright," he said, sounding a little irritated. "Let me show you to our common room."

They made their way down to the labyrinth of dungeons, Hermione trying to work out her own feelings and Severus trying to keep his from being too obvious.

* * *

Isolde swept through Hogwarts, robes billowing artfully behind her. She wasn't jealous of the two, quite the opposite. She was just angry and frustrated and hurting and she needed to be alone. She headed toward the forest to be alone, mentally unable to care that she would be ditching Divination; of course, it wasn't really a hard subject to catch up in. She would go to Care of Magical Creatures though, as Professor Kettleburn said that they would be meeting one of the centaurs today.

The boy kept following her, his wand out, ready to protect her if he needed. He watched as she settled herself on a large, flat rock near a small pool, leaving her bag on a nearby stump. She sat on the edge of the rock, skipping a stone across the glossy surface of the water. He came just a little closer, panicking when he stepped on a twig, breaking it.

Isolde whipped around, her blue eyes panicked, but hard. She was wild and dangerous when cornered, feral in her fright. He did the first thing he could think of.

The bushes rustled and she tensed, waiting for it to come. After preparing herself for the worst, it was a pleasant surprise to see a large black dog saunter out of the bushes. It marched straight to her, butting its head into her shoulder. Isolde laughed and began scratching him behind the ears, cooing to him softly. She loved dogs, always had; her parents had made a running joke over her yearly request for a puppy for Christmas.

Isolde moved to pull something out of her bag—a shrunken music case. She restored it to its normal size and opened it to retrieve her beloved guitar. It was covered in band stickers and political slogans and such, all placed with tender care. She tuned it quickly with a deft ear; the dog curled up at her side. She gave him an aimless pat before beginning to play, her fingers dancing across the strings, reminiscent of a tango or some other intimate ballroom dance.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night; take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise." Her voice was strong, but it still managed to sound fragile somehow. She paused and looked down when the dog rested his head in her lap. She gave him a quick scratch before continuing.

"Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly—into the light of the dark black night." Her voice wavered and shook as she choked back tears. Soldiering on, she sang the next verse, the fingers strumming the guitar turning cold and her face pale.

"Take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise." She whispered the last line, emotion restraining her voice, which was normally full and strong; it was clear as fresh water and was chameleonic, able to change with the song she sang. The dog next to her howled mournfully when she finished; she couldn't tell if it was a compliment or an insult. Frankly, she couldn't have cared.

Isolde bowed her head, tears pricking her eyes; it was impossible to hold them back, and however proud it was, she hated to be seen crying. She controlled her emotions, not the other way around. The dog saw her distress and began nuzzling her and licking her face. She pushed him away, laughing through the tears and wrinkling her nose at the dog breath. Affronted, he sat next to her, regal and proud, but he folded when she pressed a kiss on his forehead; Isolde buried her face in his neck to let herself feel wanted and cared about, maybe even loved. It was the best way to make her feel better.

She sat up after a few minutes, composed but holding back, fully in control again. "Thank you, Puppy. I have to go back to class now. Good-bye!"

Sirius Black shifted back into his human form after she left, more confused than ever.


	5. Chapter 5

I would like to thank the readers I have for their (hopefully) continued support, as well as my reviewers. I do hope that more of you will review--it tells me what I need to be doing or not doing and lets me know how I should write in the future. Check my profile out for the other story I have posted there, and review for that one too. It just makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside . . . ;)

* * *

Blackbird Fly

_**Five**_

The wall that led to the Slytherin common room opened once Snape had given the password, Hermione trailing behind him and looking slightly uncomfortable; she would forever prefer the warmth of the reds and golds of the Gryffindor common room. Slytherin's common room was dungeon-esque, but hedonistic in its opulence and indulgence. Velvet chaises and armchairs were scattered around the room in panoply of green and silver fabrics. A few windows had been illusioned on the walls, adding to the beauty of the room; the curtains lining them were grey velvet with black cords and their window seats were huge and soft. There was a huge marble fireplace in one corner and a cluster of ebony tables and chairs in another. It was, in short, a great green-and-silver paradise, but Hermione still longed for the down-home feel of Gryffindor; the ache spanning the twenty years between her present and the past that was yet to come.

"The tunnel on the left leads to the girls' rooms. You'll have your own; it's one of the benefits to being a Slytherin. We need our privacy here—I'm sure you understand."

She nodded, pleased. Lavender and Parvati had never been the best of roommates, and having her own room also meant that she could hang up pictures of the Hogwarts she knew—the one Severus and Isolde could not see yet. "How will I know which one is mine?"

"There should be a sign on your door. I'll show you." With that, Severus grasped her hand to lead her down the winding tunnels of the Slytherin dungeons. It was a daring move for the calculating young man; he rarely did anything without analyzing the possible consequences beforehand. He was more than surprised when she entwined their fingers, locking their hands together as he'd seen lovers do. That set the wheels in his mind turning: did she see him as more than a friend, or was it just a twitch or an instinct? If there was ever a word to describe Severus Snape, it would be over-thinker.

Severus took a moment to get a glimpse of their hands twined together as he led her to her dorm room. His hand dwarfed hers, the long fingers embracing her tapered ones. Slyly, he began caressing her thumb with his; subtle, but not too subtle. He figured that if his attentions were rebuffed, it would be easy to pass off the gesture as subconscious or the like.

They stopped in front of a door near the end of the tunnel; she obviously had to have her dormitory added on. There was a slate charmed to the front of the door, announcing to Slytherin girls that this was Helene Fermier's room. He stood aside to allow her to open the door, as he knew he would be barred from entry unless she led the way. Hermione turned the knob gently, almost expecting it to shout, "GRYFFINDOR!" at her, though it didn't, of course.

It was sparse—just a basic bed, a small closet, a chest of drawers and a desk and chair; Hermione began scheming to create a Gryffindor haven in this Slytherin pit. She frowned, not seeing a trunk anywhere in the room and panicking that she would have nothing to wear aside from the clothes on her back. Deciding to inspect the closet first, she was pleased to see a variety of Muggle and Wizarding clothes in various styles and colors, and it was certainly intriguing; there would, however, be time to investigate later. Assuming she would find the same in the chest of drawers, she turned back to Severus.

"I'll worry about everything else later. Let's go back to the common room."

There was a large cluster of Slytherins piled into the chairs around the fireplace in the common room when they returned. They waved Snape over while glaring at Hermione, ever suspicious of a newcomer, especially one who claimed to be a transfer student. The first to speak was a tall, tan boy with short dark hair and blue eyes. He had a jovial sounding voice, but there was a wariness in his eyes, some forbidding caution that was hidden in every word.

"Severus, come and join us. Bring your friend, Helene, wasn't it?"

Hermione nodded, trying to memorize each face. There was a thin blonde girl she assumed to be Narcissa Malfoy (though Hermione supposed she was still a Black now), a younger boy who could only be Sirius's little brother, Regulus, and her own personal demon, Dolohov was there, his beady eyes raking up and down her body. She glared at him fiercely, only to be rewarded with a lascivious smile. Turning her attention to the rest of the cluster, she saw very few familiar faces and wondered how many of them would live to see the second war.

A dark haired girl strode over. _Bellatrix, _Hermione thought savagely. "Severus," she purred, "have you given anymore thought to our little offer?"

Hermione stifled a gasp, certain that she knew precisely what they were talking about. They had already asked him to become a Death Eater! She had to get out of here, now—Death Eaters and time travelling members of the second Order of the Phoenix: bad idea. She went over to where Severus was sitting with Bellatrix and the boy, a grimace marring her normally bubbly features. Leaning over, she whispered in his ear, "Severus, I'm going to go to the library. Meet me there when you're done if you like."

Severus nodded and she left; all the better for him, really. He didn't know if he wanted her to know this. "Rabastan, Bellatrix, I honestly haven't thought about it yet. I cannot yet accept this generous offer, though it is my inclination. Please allow me to take some more time in considering this offer, as I only learned of the Dark Lord's interest in me last night." His speech was spoken with the eloquence of a practiced and well-trained liar—a bred Slytherin who knew how to play the game.

"Severus, there should be nothing to think about. Your family honor as a Prince is on the line and you should be proud to receive such an offer. We can make our world the way it was supposed to be!" Bellatrix was perhaps the most zealous of the group, her eyes flashing in her enthusiasm.

Severus shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I cannot give you an answer right now."

He left without waiting for a response, leaving a dangerous thing behind: a group of Slytherins who wouldn't trust him as far as they could throw him—not that they would make such an effort, mind you.

* * *

The rest of the classes passed quickly that day. Sirius still watched Isolde as the other Marauders watched him watching her, all of them forming some kind of twisted parade of stalkers and observers. They confronted him later on in the common room at their chosen spot on a window seat by the bay window overlooking the grounds.

"Sirius, what's going on with you and Chase?" James asked sharply. It was unusual for him to take on the role of interrogator or professor—the awful job was usually Remus's. It was a warning sign to Sirius: they meant business this time, and there was no escape until a few questions were answered.

Sirius tried his innocent face, but the others knew him too well to fall for it. When Remus gave him "the look," Sirius began talking.

"I don't know; she's just gotten under my skin. I mean, she's pretty and all, but there's more than that. Girls like that should be popular and have friends but she doesn't. I'm curious, that's all. I mean, really, the girl has a great wand. You saw her this afternoon. I-I want to know her better."

Remus and James shook their heads. The reign of Sirius Black as Hogwarts' unofficial playboy could very well be coming to an end, seeing as how he'd never actually wanted to get to know the girls he dated. While he didn't necessarily date often, he was a ladies' man; girls naturally flocked to him thanks to his aristocratic good looks and natural charisma. His sense of humor and familial connections didn't hurt his chances either. In fact, the only real reason that he was the Marauder Playboy was that James had Lily, Remus wasn't interested in the girls there and Peter was just . . . Peter.

The guys soon learned that once Sirius had gotten to talking and speculating about Isolde Chase, he wasn't inclined to stop. Thankfully, Peter rushed off, saying that he had to go to the library to get a book for his Care of Magical Creatures essay; James and Remus were hot on his tail, following their hang-on for once. Sirius watched his friends run with a brotherly fondness and an extreme longing for things to go back to the way they once were.

* * *

The rest of the classes for that day passed quickly, leaving Isolde and Hermione to work on their homework at a large table tucked away in the back of the library. The bookshelves surrounded their little alcove, giving it the air of a secret cavern tucked away in some remote little corner of the world.

"How did you know this was here, Helene?" Isolde asked, once they had begun working.

Hermione flushed. This was her favorite place to work in the future, as there was little chance of being interrupted by anything or anyone, but she shouldn't know about it as a transfer student in 1970 something. "Umm . . . I just found it when I was browsing for books," she lied.

Isolde furrowed her brow, but said nothing. Why was Helene lying to her? It was obvious enough, based on the way her eyes flicked nervously to the left when she said it and the sweat glistening on the palms of her hands.

There was something more to this girl, and she had to figure it out.


	6. Chapter 6

I am so sorry that it has been so long since my last update. For those of you who may be curious, I do have most of the story framed out and written, but I add a lot (especially in this chapter) to the story when I edit it and everything. I am working a lot on the middle/ending of the story, so this will not be abandoned, but between life and everything, I can't say how long the time between updates might be, especially once I run out of the pre-written stuff. I would also like to thank my twelve reviewers and encourage more of you who find my story or have it on story alert to review. I like reading them; it gives me warm fuzzies and makes my self-esteem rise! I kid you a little though--I like to think I'm not that desperate, but that's kind of up to you.

* * *

Blackbird Fly

_**Six**_

The week passed quickly, as their lives were a simple routine for five days of the week. Severus and Hermione continued to fumble and blush around each other like preteens, though Severus was better at hiding it; Hermione seemed a bit bewildered by her behavior, as though she was not in control of herself when she was around them. Isolde merely watched the proceedings, ever the sardonic observer, though she occasionally gathered information from one for the other; she had often been told that she was well suited for espionage in her discretion and occasional deceit. The good news was that Halloween was fast approaching, bringing with it the annual Masquerade Ball. Isolde saw an opportunity and took it, speaking with Severus first.

"Sev, I know a girl who's really interested in you. She never stops talking about it and I think you two should go out at least once, based on how often I've been forced to listen to her wax poetic about your greatness and erm . . . assets. I could set you up with her, and I think you would like her a lot," she wheedled.

His interest was piqued. At the very least he could dissuade her from her little infatuation by being an arse. "What's she like?"

"Erm . . ." Isolde wasn't sure how to answer; too much and she would give it away, but too little and he would probably say no. "She's our year and she's brilliant. Pretty too, in an earthy kind of way, and she has your sense of humor. You'd really like her, Severus. Say yes," she begged.

"You won't stop unless I say yes, will you?" he asked wearily.

"Nope." She grinned, proud that she had worn him down so quickly and hoping that things would go just as well with Helene.

"Fine," he sighed. "I just hope you know what you're getting me into."

Isolde gave him a mischievous smirk before sauntering over to her table as the professor walked into the dungeon.

Helene was her next target. She would have to be extra careful so as not to give herself away. Girls could sense these things a bit better than guys could, in her opinion.

"'Lene, do you have a date for the Masque?"

"No, Zelda, you know that." She sounded suspicious, as if she was able to smell Isolde's brilliant yet slightly nefarious plot to convince her friends to date, if only for one night.

"Well, there's this guy I know who really likes you but he's never going to make a move on his own, so I figured I could set the two of you up for the Ball. How 'bout it, Helene?" she coaxed, hoping it wouldn't be too obvious.

Hermione thought carefully. She was wondering if Severus would go with her as a friend, but this guy had a romantic interest in her, which was definitely a bonus. She would, of course, have to be sure that she wouldn't run into him in the future, or the effects would be disastrous. Although she could always ditch him if she really had to . . .

"Fine," Hermione replied, grinning. "But if I have to ditch him, I'm blaming you."

"'Lene, I can almost guarantee that you'll like him. We'll go together on the Hogsmeade trip this weekend to get our costumes."

* * *

"Do you think I should ask her?" Sirius Black said for the third time in a few minutes. The other three looked at one another, each one begging that one of the others answer. James took the bullet in the end.

"Have you spoken to her at all recently or have you just been stalking her?" he asked pointedly.

"Well, I don't know how to go about dealing with this one; she's not likely to fall for the same bits as the others, is she?" he replied thoughtfully.

"What if you get a matching costume by 'accident'?" Remus asked. "That shop in Hogsmeade keeps tabs on who buys which costume so that there won't be duplicates or anything like that at the Ball, so all you have to do is say that she's your date."

"Moony, my friend, you're brilliant!" Sirius roared. "When's the next Hogsmeade weekend?"

"Not till next week, I think," James said. Peter nodded his head vigorously in agreement.

"All the better to plan, for this week, I officially begin my seduction!"

James, Remus and Peter all rolled their eyes.

* * *

Isolde turned eighteen on Thursday of that week. Severus acknowledged the occasion with the offer of a butterbeer during next Hogsmeade weekend while Hermione began scheming for a special surprise during the Ball; she hoped to encourage Isolde's dream of performing professionally. Either way, they all agreed to meet in Isolde's dormitory later that night to just hang out and have birthday cake to celebrate.

A Hogwarts Eagle owl swooped down on their table, landing neatly on Isolde's plate and ruffling its feathers, shaking a few of them into her uneaten eggs. She laughed prettily, stroking its head as he cooed at her and offered his leg.

"What's this, handsome?" Isolde asked, untying the letter carefully. The owl hooted proudly in reply before winking at her, its great amber eye opening and closing slowly. She winked back, causing Severus to groan at the exchange. Hermione smacked him lightly on the arm in retribution.

He rubbed his arm, still watching Isolde coddle the great owl. "You'd think that after seven years, she'd lose interest in the things," he mumbled to Hermione.

"Oh hush. You should have more fascination in the everyday," she replied haughtily, turning away from him and smoothing her hair a little.

Severus got a little defensive at that. "Who says I'm not fascinated?" He grasped her shoulder and turned her around, looming over her, his eyes intensely bright.

Hermione's eyes locked with him, and she felt the connection jolt through her body. Severus had turned into Professor Snape in that single moment and she found that it wasn't all that unattractive at all.

To be honest, it was kind of turning her on.

All sexual thoughts about Severus/Professor Snape (Merlin, time travel's confusing!) blew out the window when Isolde shrieked across the table. Their heads snapped to look at her quickly, and, as though in a bad old-fashioned comedy, both their jaws dropped in unison at the sight before them.

Isolde had put the ring around her neck not long before, feeling a spark shoot up her back as the necklace slipped over her neck and the ring settled on her chest. She felt a funny tingle spread through her body, odd warmth radiating from the ring to each end of her. Raising her fingers, she screamed.

Her fingertips, her hands, her arms—her entire body was glowing, luminescent in pearly light. The ring sparkled against her chest, throwing rays of scarlet light across her white blouse. Isolde lifted the necklace between her index finger and thumb, twirling the ring on the chain. As she watched, the once-dull glow around her brightened to a pure, blinding light, causing other students to take notice. The glow emanating from her began to pulsate, sending beams across the hall as everyone around her gasped and covered their eyes.

Professor Dumbledore stood, mesmerized by it; his blue eyes were horrified by the sight of her. He gazed at her as the ring lifted Isolde slowly, raising her a few feet off the ground. She screamed, and the light burst from her mouth, her head tilting up to the ceiling. She closed her eyes, hoping for the whole thing to be over soon—now, but when she opened her eyes, Isolde was levitating even higher, able to see the entire student body through eyes that glowed red like embers in pitch black night.

They flicked over the students in the hall, searching for the one person she needed to find, the glow intensifying as they found him sitting at the Gryffindor table.

As though the ring was satisfied, it lowered a magically exhausted Isolde to the floor, the teachers closing in around her as it did. Severus and Hermione hurried to her side, laying her gently on the floor, Severus cradling her head and Hermione in a vice-grip on her hand. Isolde opened her eyes and met Severus's; he was stunned to see that her eyes, once a stormy dark blue, were now a jewel-like blood red. It was the first time he consciously used his Legilimency on someone, and her thoughts surprised him: _"The Stone-child has found its family; mate, parent and child are united."_

Professor Dumbledore let the boy read her thoughts before resting a hand on his shoulder. He crouched down to meet Severus's ear, whispering, "Carry her to the Hospital Wing. Do not tell anyone anything."

Severus scooped up the supine Isolde and waited for Hermione to follow before leaving as Professor Dumbledore made his way to the podium to calm the assembly of students and faculty down.

Once Hermione was sure Isolde was safe and well in the Hospital Wing, she grabbed on to Severus's hand and led him to the library. There was research to be done.

* * *

Isolde was released just before dinner with a stern admonition from Poppy not to do any magic of any sort for the next three days. She ate a quick light dinner, glaring at anyone who ambled up to ask her about the pulsating red ring she still wore around her neck, wondering where Severus and Helene were. While she was nearly certain that they were both in the library researching what the hell had happened that morning, Isolde had no real desire to pore over books after spending most of her birthday in the Hospital Wing being force-fed potions and liquids every hour to get her strength back; she returned to her dormitory, nearly groaning at the thought of all the homework that would be waiting for her.

She waved her wand at the huge Gothic chandelier she had charmed on the center of the ceiling, lighting the candles in a single spell. To her immense pleasure, Severus was seated on the mountain of pillows she had transfigured beneath her loft bed; the coffee table before him bearing food and drink. Hermione was scanning her bookcase, running soft fingers over the spines of the numerous books she had lugged to Hogwarts.

Isolde tackled Helene in a bear hug, but the two were steadied by Severus thanks to his ability to move quickly and quietly without being noticed. Before he could move away, she had thrown her arms around him too, thanking them both repeatedly and quickly, crying a little into Severus's neck. He pushed her back, reminding her sternly that it was her birthday and she was going to enjoy it. Isolde wiped her eyes on her robe sleeve, laughing. She disappeared into her closet for a moment, reemerging with a few vinyl records in her arms; she then waved her wand (in blatant disregard of Mediwitch orders) and levitated an old-fashioned phonograph out of her closet, whisking it over to the desk in the corner.

Hermione gaped at her friend's brilliance: the phonograph wasn't electronic, as it was powered by a hand crank, so it could be used in Hogwarts without magical interference. Isolde quickly flicked through the records she had brought out, picking a trippy looking cover with multi-colored swirls and loops. She put it on and cranked the player, blasting ABBA's "Dancing Queen" before singing along while Hermione picked up on the mood and did corny dance moves, acting as Isolde's back-up singer.

Severus just scowled through the song, mainly focusing on eating a sandwich he had picked out from the platter the house elves made. His peace was disturbed when the girls grabbed his arms to convince him to dance, but he resolutely refused, though his lips quirked in a smile every so often.

The song ended, fading away into the now-quiet room. Severus looked from one girl to the other before asking, "Is there any good music on that thing?"

Isolde grinned before answering in a voice as cheeky as possible. "Well, there's 'Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head' or 'Sunshine On My Shoulders' and those old standbys, 'YMCA' and 'You're The One That I Want,' but I think 'Age of Aquarius' would be most appropriate." He looked confused, so Isolde began to sing.

_"When the moon is in the Seventh House  
And Jupiter aligns with Mars  
Then peace will guide the planets  
And love will steer the stars_

_This is the dawning of the age of Aquarius  
The age of Aquarius  
Aquarius!  
Aquarius!_"

Hermione caught on to the song as she was singing, and pulled Severus into a dance, doing the dance move she had often made fun of with Harry and Ron in the future. He groaned as she started doing a Charlie Brown, tugging his hand away and pulling out the cake they had gotten from the kitchens.

Chocolate, he reasoned, would effectively distract any teenage girl.

As they ate their cake, Hermione began questioning Isolde on her singing, as she was quite good and Hermione still owed her a birthday present.

"I play guitar mostly, but I'm trying to learn piano, and I take voice lessons for singing during the summer. My parents got me a music box when I was turning sixteen that plays whatever instrument I need it to once I feed the sheet music into it. The music box learns it and after that, all I have to do is say what song I will sing and then it plays. It's been a fantastic help, especially for when I'm writing a new song."

"You write as well?" Severus asked, saddened a little that no one but him and Helene saw this Isolde.

"Yes," she answered, licking the last glob of icing from her fork. "Would you like to hear?"

The two nodded emphatically, so she pulled the music box down from a shelf on the wall, opening it on the desk next to the phonograph, which she stopped. "Box: play 'A Night at the Roses' in thirty seconds."

Isolde picked up her guitar, giving it a few gentle strums as she spoke quickly, wanting to tell them a little about the song and get herself ready to perform. "I wrote this not too long ago, and it's still kind of a work in progress, but I like it, so here goes." She took a few deep breaths, and the music box made a tiny little ping before the song began.

_"You should see yourself; when will you grow up?  
Every knob you twist on that machine is like a crutch.  
But I was just the fool you__'__d been waiting for.  
Who says we can__'__t touch ourselves to keep from getting bored?  
Nothing else is touching that's for sure.  
A ring around the roses.  
I will watch you play.  
I come here every night.  
It__'__s just me, the bartender, the waitress and the lights  
shining on you not getting it right.  
We clap not for you but for your kind._

_A ring around the roses.  
Everybody poses threats and then backs down  
the second you put clothes on.  
A ring around the roses.  
Everybody knows it.  
I will sing your fears if you sing my neurosis.  
You should back out now—not a night too soon.  
I__'__ll still be here when the last poor soul has left the room,  
standing round just like a good friend should,  
smiling as if your songs were good.  
A ring around the roses.  
Everybody poses threats and then backs down  
the second you put clothes on.  
A ring around the roses.  
Everybody knows it.  
I will sing your fears if you sing my neurosis.  
And I sat there for hours, waiting on the curb  
thinking you might like a flower from a pretty girl.  
A ring around the waitress from the verse.  
A ring of fire around the roses__' __door.  
Put it on before you lose your nerve.  
Put your hands together and they__'__ll hurt._

_Put your hands together and they'll hurt._

_Put your hands together and they__'__ll hurt._

_Put your hands together and they'll hurt._

_Put your hands together and they'll hurt._

_Make a sound that no one__'__s ever heard.  
Make a sound that no one's ever heard._

_And I hope we get what we deserve."_

Hermione and Severus both applauded, Isolde laying her guitar back in its case before giving them a deep mock curtsey. "That was brilliant, Zelda," Hermione said, beginning to scheme a little for Isolde's birthday. Her plan involved Isolde, the music box and the Masque; far less subtle than Isolde's, and only slightly more cliched. Severus asked her about her writing and flattered her a little less obviously as Hermione lost herself in her plans.

The phonograph was turned back on, as Isolde was getting too tired to sing. They talked well into the night on nearly everything; the evening eventually turned into an unintentional sleep-over, the three of them curling up on pillows and huddling into each other for warmth until the house elves covered them with heavy blankets when they came to do room cleanings.

* * *

The songs mentioned in this chapter are ABBA'S "Dancing Queen," BJ Thomas's "Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head," John Denver's "Sunshine On My Shoulders," The Fifth Dimnesion's "Age of Aquarius," and the Dresden Dolls' "A Night at the Roses." I own none of them; I just like Severus's reaction to them.


	7. Chapter 7

Here is the next installment, along with (if you check my page) the beginning of an adorable drabble series. You lucky ducks! In return, I ask you for reviews on both of them, and don't think I won't know. I have seen that this story is gaining popularity, and I hope that you will review so that I can gauge your opinions and improve the story.

Thanks kids!

* * *

Blackbird Fly

_**Seven**_

The following day was, thankfully, a Friday.

Hermione woke up first, due to her meticulous tuning of her biological clock for the past seven years. She was not surprised to wake up, though she was certainly surprised to wake up against a softly snoring Severus, her head tucked into his chest and his leg thrown over hers. Isolde had curled up at the couples' heads, napping like a cat on her pillow.

Hermione yawned loudly before arching her back and stretching, her head fuzzy from lack of sleep. The yawn woke Severus, who was treated to a splendid view of her bosom as her back arched and her breasts pushed into his hard chest. He groaned a little, alerting Hermione to his conscious state, causing her to flush.

"Don't be embarrassed," he said quietly. "It's nice waking up like this." Severus looked at her meaningfully, his forehead touching hers.

Hermione looked up at Isolde, who was beginning to stir quietly, her ring spilling out from beneath her shirt. Her attention was diverted when she felt arms slip around her waist and tug her closer. Hermione was so close to him now, their lips barely touching one another. She felt them skate over one another as she said, heart hammering against her ribs, "I like this too."

Isolde woke quietly at that point, on guard when she heard the lowered voices. Her blood-colored eyes softened as she saw the entwined figures of Severus and Helene laying together, his arms around her and hugging her as though he would never let go. They widened as she saw Severus respond, and she quickly put her head back down and pretended to sleep, though her full attention was concentrated on the two near-lovers.

A single thought began channeling through her mind, beating it into her minds with drums: kiss her, kiss her—just kiss her, Severus.

Her prayers were answered when Severus slowly, tentatively pressed his lips on hers, his eyes slipping closed as they made careful contact.

Hermione felt her soul leap out of her, as though the kiss was pulling it to him. It was a heady feeling to kiss Severus, especially since they had been dancing around the sexual tension elephant for the past week. It was with regret that she pulled away gently, her arms wrapping around his neck and pulling his head to her shoulder. She could feel him smile.

Isolde chose that moment to wake up, giving a satisfied little hum as she stretched, cat-like. "Sleep well?" she asked brightly, snickering under her breath as they blushed; furious spots of color were appearing on their cheeks. She hopped off her pillow and said, "'Lene, borrow what you need if you want. I'll see you both at breakfast," over her shoulder as she went to the closet to get a uniform and robes. She skipped to the lavatory down the hallway, whistling as she went.

* * *

That day went astonishingly slowly, due in part to the lethargy instilled in the three by their impromptu sleepover. Hermione and Severus spent most of their time in classes on auto-pilot, each reliving the kiss repeatedly and trying to plot for another in the very near future.

The Hogsmeade weekend was coming, and it would be a welcome break for all concerned. The older students (those in fourth year and up) were planning to shop for costumes for the Masquerade at Swann's Costume in Hogsmeade. Swann's, besides being the best costume shop in Hogsmeade, also had only a select number of each costume, and when the customer bought the costume, his or her name was placed in the ledger and the duplicates were taken off the racks. It was a very convenient system, especially when you were trying to plan a blind date for your best friends or when you were trying to get the hard-to-get girl.

Sirius had lived up to his word, talking to Isolde rather than just stalking her; it did, however, come in handy, as he now knew a great deal about her and her habits. It wasn't uncommon to see him taking the adjacent table in the library or see him waiting for her after classes.

Isolde didn't respond well most of the time. She didn't trust people easily, being both a Slytherin and a social outcast of the highest order. It was rare to see her speak to anyone but Snape and Helene, and the idea of her speaking with one of the Gryffindors, not to mention a Marauder, was absurd. Sirius knew that he couldn't get too friendly too quickly, or else she would run away; nor could he treat her like the other girls he had "liked" in the past. Ever since he had been the shoulder she had cried on, albeit unknowingly, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her; the way she had turned her beautiful red eyes on him in the Great Hall was amazing. He had to know her, at the very least.

He still hadn't asked himself why he was going to so much trouble to make her like him.

* * *

When Hermione's new Trio sat down for breakfast on Saturday morning, they discussed plans for the Hogsmeade trip. Hermione and Severus had wanted to go costume shopping as a group, but Isolde shot the idea down, her cover story being that she and Helene would take ages to find a costume and Severus would just be bored while they tried on the plethora of colorful costumes. She offered to go with Helene in the morning and Severus in the afternoon, reassuring them that finding both of their would be a pleasure. They all agreed that they would go back to Isolde's room once they returned for some sandwiches and Honeydukes chocolate.

Isolde walked down to Hogsmeade with Hermione, the girls chatting about what kind of costumes they might look for and Hermione trying to learn more about her blind date. Her friend remained tight-lipped, replying to each question with an enigmatic, "You'll see."

Sirius joined them not long after, slinging an arm around Isolde's waist. She looked down at it in surprise, but he refused to move it, and he made sure she knew that. Breaking her limits was one thing, but surely he could nudge them a little, right?

Severus watched with wide black eyes, nearly gasping when Isolde let him keep his arm there without saying anything about it. He just wondered what it meant; Isolde wasn't one of them, and Sirius was one of the people he hated most. How could this end well?

When the group of students arrived at Hogsmeade, Isolde and Sirius separated, but he gave her a quick peck on the cheek before he ran off to Zonko's with the Marauders. Hermione grabbed Isolde's arm, reminding her about the costume shop and wondering (for the umpteenth time since meeting the girl) why Sirius had never mentioned Isolde in the future (Past? Present? Hermione couldn't think straight anymore).

* * *

"What kind of costume should I be looking for, Isolde? You haven't told me much about my date, you know," Hermione said, rifling through the costumes hung neatly around the shop.

"I think he would like something a little . . . dark best. A vampire mistress or something like that, perhaps. Nothing too trampy though, he can be a bit old-fashioned sometimes," she replied, scanning the rows for good costumes for her.

"I think I know what you mean," Hermione began, pulling a costume out. "Would this work?" She held up a short purple dress covered in black trim and lace.

"It's a good start," Isolde said as she pulled out a pirate costume, wrinkled her nose at it and put it back.

Hermione hadn't gone costume shopping in years, as she hadn't been home for Halloween since she was eleven, but she was certainly getting back into the swing of it and relishing the joy of feeling like a little girl again. She pulled a few vampire dresses out as well as a few pirate costumes and a devil costume. She disappeared into a dressing room while Isolde continued to pick through the racks.

When Hermione came out in the devil costume, Isolde scrutinized her thoroughly before shaking her head. "It's good, 'Lene, but I think you can do better. Besides, it wouldn't look right with a mask."

The pirate costume was too big and sort of frumpy-looking while most of the vampire costumes were too skimpy. By now, Isolde had commandeered the dressing room next to her, each inspecting the other to see if the costume was good.

Hermione stepped out first with one of her last outfits. It was a long Victorian style dress; the bodice red and tight, hugging her curves. The skirt had a black satin bustle over a red and black patterned skirt. The sleeves were puffed around her upper arms and skin tight to her wrists, ending in a sharp point. She looked good and began admiring herself from all angles in the three-sided mirror.

Isolde squealed when she saw her. "Helene, that looks fantastic! It's perfect for you! Do you like it?"

Hermione nodded. "Will he like it?"

"Undoubtedly. Now that we have agreed which costume you're getting, how's this?"

Hermione crinkled her nose at the Cleopatra costume. "I don't like it. The color's all wrong with your hair and erm . . . new eyes." Isolde's face fell; it was her last costume. "What about that angel costume over there?"

Isolde shrugged and summoned it, returning to the dressing room. She came out, looking a bit sheepish.

"What do you think, 'Lene?"

"It's brilliant, very you."

Isolde wore the garb of a fallen angel, tattered and grey, setting off her coppery blonde hair and ruby eyes. It was an off the shoulder floor length dress, the shredded lace train a sharp contrast to the tight gathered silk covering her upper body. There were no sleeves, just a pair of tattered straps (one hanging off of her shoulder for effect) and the costume came with a pair of wings made of the same tattered lace. Isolde was crowned with a halo of grey roses.

She joined Hermione in front of the mirror, twisting and turning to make sure she looked good from every angle.

"Other girls don't stand a chance with the way we look!" Hermione crowed.

"Eat your hearts out, boys!" Isolde agreed, their voices carrying through the store where the other students were shopping. The girls were chastened by the glares they got from the shop owner, so they quickly dressed and bought their costumes and masks, each wearing a smug smile.

* * *

Severus's morning was nowhere near so easy.

He picked up a new quill and some ink and parchment for school before stopping by Honeydukes and getting some chocolates for them to share tonight and a few of his favorite treats for later. That done, he spotted the Marauders by Zonko's before they saw him, so he did them a favor and charmed them to sing everything they said to the tune of the Meow Mix jingle, complete with cat ears, a tail and a weakness for tuna and fish.

That was good.

What had happened afterwards was not.

Rabastan Lestrange and his little gang of Death Eaters had ambushed him out of nowhere, shoving him into an alleyway and up against a stone wall. Severus found a wand pointed in his face, his head throbbing from where it had hit the wall.

"Severus," Rabastan purred, "I certainly didn't want it to come to this, but our Lord wants an answer. You have great potential, Severus, and your cause needs you; your people need you. Join us, friend."

"Is this the way you treat friends?" he responded testily, looking pointedly at the arm holding him to the wall and the wand in his face.

"No. This is reserved for the potential traitors.

"Then why treat me so brutally if you need me so badly, or is that a lie?"

"You have the power of a Pureblood (Severus didn't bother to correct him), the mind of a Ravenclaw and the heart of a Slytherin: the recipe for a powerful wizard."

"Tell your Lord that I must meet with him myself to hear such promises from him," Severus said roughly, shoving Rabastan's arm away from him and glaring at the crowd dangerously. Rabastan gave him leave to exit the alleyway, the Slytherins dispersing in two directions: Severus to the Three Broomsticks, and the others to the Hog's Head.

* * *

Sirius Black and the Marauders swaggered out of Zonko's, each laden with bags of proper pranking materials, the tails and ears charmed out of them by Lily Evans (they all still had a craving for tuna and catnip). Their next stop was to meet Lily by the Three Broomsticks before heading to Swann's to get their Halloween costumes.

It had already been decided that they would be dressing separately, although their Wizard of Oz ensembles had made quite a splash the year before (Lily was Dorothy, Remus was the Cowardly Lion, James was the Scarecrow, Peter was the Tin Man and Sirius was Toto). Lily and James already knew what they wanted to wear: Lily would go as Hugh Hefner (complete with bubble pipe) and James would be her Playboy bunny. Remus and Peter would decide when they got to the shop and saw what was still available while Sirius would wear a costume to match Isolde Chase's.

While the others began shuffling through the racks to find their own ensembles, Sirius went over to Mr. Swann, his innocent face fully in place.

"Sir, I was wondering if you could tell me what costume my girlfriend, Isolde Chase, got for the Ball. I was hoping we could match, you see, and I wanted her to be surprised," he said courteously, making use of the manners his mother had drilled into his head before he ran away.

"Isolde Chase," the man said, running his finger down the ledger. "Ah, yes; she chose the fallen angel costume; quite a pretty girl too. Striking eyes—never saw anything like them in my day. I would look for some kind of devil costume if I were you."

"Thank you, Mr. Swann." Sirius bowed his head in respect before going off into the racks of costumes.

He pulled out before heading back to try them on. He met James as he was going into his dressing room and had a good long laugh at the sight of his friend in bunny ears and frilly knickers with a bunny tail, though the matching spike heels that just screamed, "FUCK ME!" were the icing on the cake.

Still grinning to himself, he tried on the first devil costume. It came with sharply tailored pants and a satin shirt, both black. Over that he wore a black ruffled cravat with red trim tucked into a tight red vest. To complete the look, he wore a full length red cape; he charmed the matching devil horns onto his head using a basic Sticking Charm. Sirius strode out into the shop, earning a wolf whistle from Remus for his trouble. He quickly got himself a black mask to try with the costume and spent a quarter of an hour examining himself in the mirror before buying the costume; he was confident enough that the second costume didn't warrant a glance.

The only one who may very well have done better than Sirius was Remus: he had found himself a Big Bad Wolf costume a la "Little Red Riding Hood," complete with mask and nightdress.

* * *

The three met for a quick lunch, and Severus made good on his promise of a butterbeer for Isolde's birthday. They made small talk, Isolde skillfully steering the conversation away from the costumes and the Masquerade. It wouldn't do for them to figure out who their date was yet.

Once lunch had ended, Isolde grabbed Severus's arm and dragged him off to Swann's so that he could find a matching vampire costume for the Ball (a way for her to continue to get her sick kicks, really, and she even planned to transfigure some Blood Pops into a matching corsage and boutonniere). She sent him off to find a costume while she talked to the shop owner, Phineas Swann.

"Mr. Swann, can you tell me where the vampire costume is to match the one my friend bought earlier? Her name is Helene Fermier. I'm helping her date find his costume now," she said politely, watching Severus to make sure he stayed out of earshot. The aging man obliged, pointing her to the back corner.

"Look for a costume with a red vest and long black cape with a red lining," he whispered.

She marched off to where he had pointed, mouthing, "Thank you," over her shoulder. Isolde dug through the rack frantically, too busy to notice the scowl on Severus's face.

"Isolde," he growled in a low baritone, "why are you dressing me up as a vampire?"

"It's kind of ironic, don't you think?" She flashed him a toothy grin. When he continued to glower, she began coaxing him.

"Severus, what fits you better? Besides, have you even read Dracula? The sexual subtext is so obvious a Gryffindor could catch it! Vampires are considered to be quite sexy these days and you would look absolutely dashing. Sweep the girl of your choice off her feet if you wanted . . ." He sighed, thinking of Helene. He wished he had the courage to ask her, but that would require him to not have a date. Grudgingly, he pulled the costume off the rack and went to try it on.

Isolde didn't have long to wait. Severus strode came out of the dressing room confidently, his hair tied back in a leather thong. He wore tight, tailored trousers and a white silk shirt. A red vest and long black cape completed the ensemble. She went over to where the masks were and pulled a black one edged in red ribbon off the display, placing it gently over his face.

"There now, you look fantastic! Go on, get it and enjoy the rest of your day," she said, shooing him back to the dressing room.

She waited until he had bought his costume to leave, watching him break into a run to catch up with Helene, who appeared to have been ensnared by the scent of Honeydukes. Isolde smiled fondly at the sight of him catching her hand and leading her to the Shrieking Shack, which wasn't far off and certainly less crowded than Honeydukes. Sighing, she made her way to a clump of beech trees across from the store, seeing a few low branches to relax on. She slung her bag around her neck before swinging up to the lowest branch, climbing until she was a comfortable distance from the ground.

Isolde slumped against the tree trunk and pulled a well-worn copy of The Count of Monte Cristo outof her back, planning to read until just before sunset, at which time she could get the book she had ordered from the shop, pick up some ink and a leather-bound parchment journal she'd been eyeing before stopping at Honeydukes to get her customary order of chocolates: caramels, darks, milks, peanut butter, truffles . . .

Her plans were only slightly derailed when Sirius Black sat at the base of the tree, having spotted her when he was leaving. He waved his friends on and waited for her to join him, the two of them running her errands before he gave her a dark chocolate angel he had gotten from Honeydukes earlier in the day, claiming it was a late birthday present.

His hand stayed on the small of her back as they meandered up the trail to Hogwarts, warm against her small body.

* * *

Severus kept Hermione's hand clasped in his as he showed her the town. At the end of the day, she gave him a soft peck on the cheek.

He'd never been happier.


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you all so much for the incredibly generous reviews, and I hope I hear more from you as well as from those who have my story on alert. Feel free to spread the word around too, and I hope you keep reading. I also have the beginnings of an HG/SS drabble series.

* * *

Blackbird Fly

_**Eight**_

Isolde and Sirius separated once they got to the castle, but not before Sirius could fold her into a hug and give her cheek another lingering kiss. She hurried back to her dormitory, hoping to tidy it up a bit before the other two arrived for what would probably be a new weekend tradition. _Though,_ she thought with a snort, _they're a bit wrapped up in each other right now to notice anything other than that._

Her room was very bohemian in some ways, as she preferred the "lived-in" look than the overly neat look. There were two large murals on the side walls inspired by Van Gogh's "Starry Night" and her bed had been transfigured into a nice loft to conserve space. She had also transfigured a small coffee table for under the table; it would serve as her dinner table tonight. Her desk, piled with old essays and aged books, stood in the corner. Isolde then flicked her wand at the wall lined with bookshelves to straighten them up before heading off to the kitchens to pick up a quick dinner for the three of them.

Isolde was waiting for Hermione and Severus in her room when they got back to the castle, the two looking more star-crossed than ever. She rolled her eyes as she invited the two in and pulled out the plate of sandwiches she'd requested from the kitchens. Passing it around, she asked, "'Lene, did you find anything out about my ring?"

"No, I couldn't' find anything about it in the library. I would guess that the stone just happens to have some sort of power that your parents didn't know about. How did they get it, anyway?" she asked before taking a bite of sandwich.

"Well, my mum wrote that they got it from the orphanage where I was at. The headmistress said it must have come from my family."

"Will your eyes ever turn back to normal, Zelda?" Severus asked, curious. Not many magical objects could permanently affect the physical appearance of a person, but even when Isolde took off the ring, she had red eyes.

"I doubt it, but I'm getting more used to them, I think. They look pretty with my hair." She twirled a coppery strand to emphasize the effect; Hermione nodded in agreement, seeing the bronze and gold highlights in her hair thanks to the deep red of her eyes.

"Let me see it," Severus said quietly, wondering if it was an old Wizarding heirloom. He scrutinized the ring carefully, turning it over and over in his palm. He shook his head. "I don't recognize it as belonging to any family. You are still a mystery, Isolde." Isolde slipped the chain over her neck and rubbed the stone of the ring possessively; while she was glad it hadn't put on another show, she had missed the trinket, hadn't felt complete without it.

She popped the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth and walked over to her closet, giving Severus a light swat as she passed him. "I hope you both have a liking for Muggle music. I just don't think ours can compare, really, and you'll hear it a whole lot if you hang around me." She flicked through a crate of records, choosing three or four from the rather large music library. "Do either of you like Queen?" she asked, pulling her record player down from its shelf.

Hermione squealed and Severus scowled, unfamiliar with Muggle trends and remembering his friends' shenanigans. Isolde placed the player on her desk and handed Hermione the records. She shuffled through them quickly before handing one off to Isolde, a mischievous glint in her brown eyes. Isolde gave her a little smirk before putting the record in the player and flicking it with her wand to get it going. "High or low, Helene?" she asked, stifling a smile at Severus's confusion.

"Low, I think," Hermione replied, looking excitedly at the player. It was nice to know that some things had stayed the same in her time.

Before Severus could ask any more questions, the music started, with Isolde and Hermione singing along.

"Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide; no escape from reality. Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see . . ." Then the two began wailing, "I'm just a poor boy; I need no sympathy—'' The finished the verse, growing steadily more melodramatic as the music continued.

He laughed as Isolde began miming piano-playing before the singing resumed, her eyes closed and her lips pouty; she milked it for all it was worth. Severus laughed at their theatrics over Mama killing a man, Hermione singing the back-up parts along with the main lyrics.

The mood shifted again, the girls bobbing alternately up and down in time with the music. They stayed that way until they both shouted (in Italian accents), "Scaramouche! Scaramouche, will you do the fandango?" at which point Hermione twirled Isolde ballroom style. Severus saw them then say "Galileo!" over and over again, alternating between high and low pitches; he finally understood the question.

Once the weird Galileo section was over, they began wiggling their fingers in mid-air and flipping their hair around while jumping angrily. "SO YOU THINK YOU CAN STONE ME AND SPIT IN MY EYE? SO YOU THINK YOU CAN LOVE ME AND LEAVE ME TO DIE? OH, BABY, CAN'T DO THIS TO ME BABY; JUST GOTTA GET OUT—JUST GOTTA GET RIGHT OUT OF HERE!"

Then they played more air guitar as the song slowed before putting their hands on each other's shoulders and swaying. Severus could barely contain himself—it was just too funny to see them like this. Isolde was always so serious and intense and Helene was prim and proper; neither of them had ever done anything so . . . silly in public; he had seen them do strange things while listening to music when they had played "Dancing Queen," but this was just insane. The song ended, leaving both girls looking sheepishly at him, remembering his overt distaste for anything so immature.

"Erm . . . I guess you thought that was childish of us, don't you, Sev?" Hermione said, looking like a spanked puppy. She remembered how acerbic Professor Snape was, especially when it came to maturity and the like.

"Indeed I did," Severus replied smoothly. "However, I can also say that your antics were . . . amusing." The girls broke into laughter at that, and Severus followed. They sat there, for a long time, listening to music and chatting about everything from childhood to politics and back again.

* * *

Hermione left not long after midnight, pleading both exhaustion and an appalling amount of procrastinated homework, and not even Severus's wheedling could convince her. As he was still insecure over the budding romance with her, he did not kiss her goodnight, choosing to wrap his arms around her waist and bury his head in her shoulder, brushing his lips against her neck and mumbling a quiet, "Sweet dreams." Isolde merely raised a brow at the unusual display of affection as well as Severus's slightly vampire-like tendency to go for the jugular instead of the cheek.

Once Helene was gone and the door was closed, Severus turned to face Isolde, motioning her to the pillows on her floor. He met her eyes, still trying to get accustomed to the vivid red; Isolde felt his eyes boring into hers, but she held firm, refusing to say anything until he made the first move. He finally sighed, inhaling before he spoke.

"I saw you with Black."

The words were final and deadly, but she stayed calm, her face a blank slate and her eyes empty. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want to know what the hell you thought you were doing."

Isolde refused to wince at the emotionless voice Severus was using. This was a Slytherin argument; it was not dramatic or loud—just basic facts and verbal sparring.

"He is my friend, Severus. Besides, you oughtn't get high-handed, considering your behavior around Evans for five years before she screwed you over for one little mistake."

Spots of color manifested on his cheeks and she could see rage in his eyes. "Lily was different."

"Really, Sev? I seem to recall that Lily tried to hex me while my back was turned, or did you forget that? You haven't been attacked since then, if you care to remember that much. Any pestering is done by James Potter, not Sirius Black. Not anymore."

Severus clenched his teeth, standing up and striding to the bookshelves. "I am trying to look out for you, Zelda. You're the baby sister I never had. You know that. Black is just going to hurt you if you get involved."

"I'm a big girl and I can handle myself, you know," Isolde replied evenly. "I know you care, Severus, but you don't even know that anything is going to happen."

"I do," he said darkly. "He looks at you the same way I look at—" He caught himself, but he didn't miss her smug smile and his own lips quirked into a lop-sided grin. "I'm just as obvious as Black is to you, aren't I?"

She nodded, laughing a little at the idea of Sirius Black getting together with someone like her. "I'll tell you what, Severus: if you're right, and Black really does like me and we fall in love, have lots of passionate sex and lots of babies, you will be godfather to our first child, who will also be named for you. Sound good?"

"The same goes for me, then," he said, flushing again. "I just—don't expect me to welcome Black with open arms, okay?"

Isolde nodded again. "I won't. I don't. I doubt it will become an issue, seeing as I don't think I'm his type anyway."

He gave her a blank stare, but his voice was slightly incredulous. "Isolde, don't, okay? You're an incredible person, no matter how much you wish it weren't true. Besides, you're female, therefore, you're his type."

She smacked his arm lightly, and he whacked her with a nearby pillow; it set off a quick but fierce battle that left both of them lying on their backs, panting. Severus, using the last of his energy, tossed a pillow at her half-heartedly, but it missed her.

Isolde laughed, saying, "Your aim is fantastic, Severus, really. Had I been four feet to the right, I would have gotten hit."

Before she could continue laughing, he cut her off with a pillow to the abdomen, using his long arm to just whack her. He then tucked the pillow under his head as Isolde pulled a blanket down from her bed. "Are you staying again, Sev? I don't mind."

He answered with a command of, "Turn out the blasted light, pull down whatever bedding you want, come over here and sleep."

Bemused, she obliged, covering them both with comforters from her bed as Severus shared his pillow. He hugged her, laughing as she curled up into a ball; Severus kept his long arms wrapped around her, which comforted Isolde. They were not lovers, nor would they ever be, but knowing the other was there was a nice thought.

Severus's eyes closed slowly, thoughts of Helene running rampant as Isolde mentally cataloged her faults and flaws to keep herself from liking Sirius Black too much.

* * *

Hermione woke up later than usual on the following day. She dressed and went for breakfast, still surprised that Isolde hadn't woken, despite her habit of sleeping late on Sundays. She knocked on her friend's door, opening it quietly when she didn't get a response. When she saw the room, Hermione gasped, her mouth hanging open.

Isolde and Severus were asleep together, Severus on his stomach with an arm thrown over Isolde, who was still in her ball and facing him. Not really knowing what to make of the situation, Hermione just left, the door slamming behind her and waking Severus and Isolde, who looked at each other in horror as they realized who it must have been.

* * *

They'd slept together.

She just knew it.

Bitter tears stung Hermione's eyes as she flung herself across her bed, which had a brilliant gold duvet on it; her room was her little Gryffindorian haven—pale sand-colored walls with splashes of bright reds and golds. That's part of why she panicked when she heard the frantic knocking at the door—her visitors had to be Slytherins.

Hermione tried to slam the door when she saw Isolde, but her once-friend was too quick, blocking the heavy dungeon door with her foot; Hermione slammed it into her foot again, taking a little pleasure in Isolde's cry of pain. Severus, frustrated, barreled into Hermione's room, helping Isolde due to her injured foot. Neither of them noticed the décor until Isolde had been seated on Hermione's bed, rubbing her foot and wincing, and while they would never ask about it to her face, they were suspicious.

"Merlin 'Lene—that really hurt. Why did you do that?"

Hermione's voice was passionate, poisonous in its sincerity, not its tone. "I saw you two! You slept together, didn't you?"

To her amazement and extreme chagrin, Isolde and Severus gaped at her for a long time before bursting into full belly-laughter, the sound bouncing off the dungeon walls. She huffed and crossed her arms at their rudeness; they were just mocking her now!

"If you two are done, I would like to be left alone." She turned her back to them, struggling when she felt Severus's arms covering hers and carefully uncrossing them and turning her around.

"Helene Fermier, you foolish girl. Isolde is the closest thing to a sister I'll ever have. You, however, are not." That being said, he pulled her to him, kissing her roughly, his mouth covering hers. It was possessive—everything he felt went into this one kiss: frustration, desire, need, sorrow, humility, apology . . .

Isolde was, at that point, finding extreme interest in cataloguing the bruises now speckled all over her foot thanks to the dungeon door.

Severus broke the kiss, still holding her tight, nearly croaking, "Don't you get it? I like you. I like you a lot. I want you to be my girlfriend, okay?"

Hermione nodded, throwing her arms around him numbly and crying softly into his chest.

"Is that a 'yes' then, 'Lene?" he whispered into her ear, his voice low and silky.

She hummed her response and he hugged her too, his arms clutching her, cradling her head into his chest and keeping her near him; where one body stopped and the other began was a near-mystery.

Isolde gave them their moment before clapping and bouncing on Hermione's bed. "I had hoped this would happen, and it's far better than I had hoped too; it was so romantic and dramatic, just like in movies!" The pair just looked at her, both asking the same silent question. Isolde smirked. "As you were both fumbling around each other like preteens for far longer than you should have, I took matters into my own hands and set up on blind dates with one another for the Ball. After those few nauseating weeks, you two had to go out, just so that I could move beyond this happy, little melodrama."

"I think we've underestimated her, Helene," Severus said, walking to the bed and giving Isolde a kiss on the top of her head. "Thank you," he whispered, low enough so that Helene couldn't hear him.

Isolde nodded and bounced off the bed, her foot still throbbing.

"I guess I owe you an apology, huh?" Hermione said, crossing to her friend and looking over the bruises she had so callously caused.

"Well, I figure this way, I can screw up and you won't be able to say anything about it," Isolde said, laughing a little. "Really, don't worry about it. It wasn't a ridiculous conclusion to come to when one thinks about it.

"In any case, I'm going to go and get lunch. Will you lovebirds be joining me?"

Severus nodded and picked up Hermione's hand, folding it in his. The happy couple and their happy matchmaker went up to the Great Hall, satisfied and relatively secure in their relationship, in Hermione (though dating a young Professor Snape was still a bit shocking to her) and Severus's case, or an internal mess, in Isolde's.


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you to all of my readers, and I do hope that the rest of you will follow suit. It's really nice to get feedback on what I can do to improve the story or just to know that I'm doing fine. In any case, I hope you continue to read, and I don't think that this fic will be ending any time soon, and may very well have a sequel.

* * *

Blackbird Fly

_**Nine**_

The anticipation of the Halloween Masquerade seemed to slow time for the two weeks between the Hogsmeade trip and the actual Ball, and Hermione's new Trio and its own little melodramas seemed to slow too, as if they were waiting for the Ball to really hit their climax.

* * *

The weeks were filled with stolen moments in hallway alcoves for a quick snog with Severus, and the novelty of being with him had yet to wear off. She had always thought that relationships just got old after a while, that the feelings wore off as time went on, and that was a great deal of why marriage had always confused her.

Her parents were her only real example of a long-lasting relationship, as her grandparents were either bitterly divorced or dead, and as far as she knew, they were nothing more than really good friends or ridiculously prudish. She'd never seen them kiss on the lips or go out for anything romantic; they would go out to do practical things and run their dental practice—no movies or fancy dinners out for them. Hermione had often wondered why they had ever gotten married in the first place.

Severus, she knew, was nothing like her mild-mannered, white collar, washed-out father. For starters, Severus just had to look at her with those beautifully dark eyes of his and she knew he loved her. He had never so much as glanced at her without that same intensity he had shown from the first day they had met. He was holding her hand or taking her arm whenever he could; she had never suspected that he would be so touchy-feely, but she didn't mind it at all, finding it to be rather sweet.

It was still so odd to know that she was dating him—that Hermione Granger, insufferable know-it-all extraordinaire, was going steady with Severus Snape, Death Eater turned Order member spy with an attitude. Hermione had to wonder if he still thought about her.

* * *

He hadn't been happy like this before.

Helene . . . she changed everything; he felt so sappy and lovesick around her, but this time, it was okay for him to feel this way. Lily had never let him just be him and he had always just felt so awkward and clumsy around her instead of the natural ease and elegant grace he exuded around Helene.

She was certainly not beautiful; cute, yes, but in a quirky sort of way. She usually wore her hair down, gelling the wild bush into submission using a quick technique Isolde had taught her. Her hair didn't fall in soft waves; it looked more like a curly mane than silk, but it complimented her ovular face and wide-set brown eyes. Her body was average, healthily thin and averagely tall, but he wasn't really interested in her because of looks. To him, that was hypocrisy in the purest sense: no girl he could think of would be interested in him for his looks.

Her mind was the fascinating part of her. She was intelligent, and her memory was incredibly efficient; she was also clever in her intelligence. The cleverness bred resourcefulness and wit, while the memory gave her the ability to recall the most nonsensical facts at the necessary moments. It was like opening infinite presents each day; Helene could always surprise him with the next admission or random thought. The intelligence had also made her a bit arrogant and socially awkward, and she obviously despised admitting that she was in the wrong, but he was the same way, so he couldn't really fault her for it.

All in all, it had been decided by himself, his id and his superego that he and Helene were a very good match if they put the proper amount of time and dedication into the relationship, and while his id was very much into the idea of shagging her (and soon), his superego quietly reminded him not to cock this one up too.

For all he cared, the Ball could never come; he was terrible on first dates.

* * *

Isolde was slowly falling apart.

It was all his bloody fault.

Ever since Severus had talked to her about the idea of him "liking" her, she couldn't stop thinking about the idea of dating him and kissing him, really kissing him. Then she would replay every moment, every conversation, searching for hints that she might be different from the girls she knew he had dated and strung along; maybe she wouldn't get hurt, though she doubted the likelihood.

Besides, Helene and Severus had all but forgotten their matchmaker once they had officially gotten together, too entranced by each other now that the unresolved sexual tension had been semi-resolved. (They hadn't yet shagged). But now they never came to her room, and she had to see them separately, because seeing them together meant that they would forget her and start to gradually leave her out of the conversation and the like. It was, she knew, entirely unintentional on their part, and she still fully approved of the romance; she just hated being on the fringe of their friendship.

Either way, it was back to meals alone in the Great Hall and songwriting in trees for her. She worked alone in the library, finding it difficult to get anything done with Helene and Severus around. She found another good spot, surrounded on all sides by books instead of the large windows that merely leaked garish light into her darkness. She preferred to work by firelight; it reminded her of warmth and of old times.

Her newest company, though, would take some getting used to.

* * *

Sirius had seen his opening, and he had taken it, for no matter how much he cared to deny it, he was of Slytherin blood; it was a part of him that he could not deny or neglect.

When he noticed that Isolde had been effectively cast from the Trio, albeit unintentionally, he swooped in, joining her when she ate meals outside and when she was playing her guitar, though she solidly refused to sing in front of him. She would show him the songs she had written and sometimes play the instrumental parts or let him listen to it through the box, but her voice would never join. He, of course, had to make his marvelous singing voice known, choosing to sing a beautiful rendition of "I'm a Little Teapot," including the embellished dance moves he had improvised. Sirius was careful, and Isolde even more so; it was a game to them, in a way. Who could stand playing "Just Friends" the longest?

He knew that The Marauders were always watching him, making sure that the Slytherins didn't get him. Sirius had tried to curtail their behavior by threatening to hex their balls off if they screwed this up for him, but Lupin, the aspiring lawyer, had smugly informed him that just watching him couldn't screw this up for him because they wouldn't come any closer than they needed to. "Besides," James added, "we're only protecting you."

Sirius laughed, a short hollow bark issuing from the grimace twisting his handsome mouth. "That's funny, Prongs, very funny. A shame, then, that she is hardly a threat. I am her friend, and you'd damn well better get used to it."

Lily tried to placate him, prying herself from James's side to go to his, her hands clasping around his arm. Sirius shook her off, removing his arm from her grasp and hissing, "You think the same way they do, Evans. Don't deny it." He turned to face his friends, steely eyes meeting theirs.

"Look, I'm not exactly a poster boy for Slytherin rights or anything, but this one is so beyond different that I can hardly believe it. They're just Houses, for Merlin's sake, not ways of life! They hate her there, everyone but Snivellus and Fermier, anyway. She's terrified of Black and Lestrange and their lot! She's different, and I like her, so you may as well get used to it!"

He stormed out of the common room at that point, hoping that his friends had not only gotten the message, but that they would still be friends with him.

Refusing to dwell on the situation, Sirius calmed himself down: he had a study date with Isolde in the library, and he was probably late.

* * *

It took him ages to find her, his only course of action being to wander through the aisles of books, combing through the labyrinth of shelves and paper and ink until her found her. Isolde was wandering the shelves of books on music, though there were few books on Muggle music.

He paused, wanting to memorize the way her tapered fingers trailed along the sides of the books and the way her coppery hair cascaded down her back and the way it caught the light just right, giving it the appearance of spun gold. She moved quickly and silently, naturally stealthy and agile in her movement. She bent slowly to reach for a book, her hands soft and fluid as they lifted the soft-cover book off the dusty shelf. She stood again, flipping it open and reading it quickly, her eyes darting across the yellowed pages. Isolde slammed the book shut and tossed it back on the shelf, and Sirius felt himself return to his body, his throat dry.

"Hey." Sirius felt shy for the first time in his life. Isolde looked at him, her eyes wide; they were pure red, Sirius could certainly never forget that, but when the light struck them just right, they turned a flaming shade of scarlet. He'd taken the time to notice little things like that, finding himself entranced by nearly everything she did.

"Hi," she replied nervously, a bit frightened by the glazed look in his eye.

"Found anything good, then?"

"Erm . . . not really. Quite a few of these books just tend to bash Muggle music, and I can't really find anything on popular wizard music." Isolde bent over to pick up a book from one of the lower shelves. "I might be a bit longer, so maybe I could meet you somewhere so that we can study."

"No, no," Sirius answered, keeping himself in check, though he did surreptitiously give her the old once-over. "Just looking around for a bit longer isn't going to kill me." He began scanning the titles as well. She was right; there weren't many on Muggle music, but there was a book of Wizarding lullabies tucked away on one of the shelves. He pulled it out and blew on it to get rid of the dust on the cover. "Try this one; they're a bunch of lullabies, but they're really pretty. I remember them from when I was little; my nanny would sing one to me every night. You'd like them, I think."He gave her the book, watching anxiously as she flipped through it.

"Thanks," she said with a genuine smile on her face. Isolde ran her fingers over the cover; she loved leather bound books, preferring them over all others. Then she looked at him for the first time; he was tall, but not too tall, and muscular, just the right size to hold her. Sirius had intense grey eyes and shaggy raven hair juxtaposed against his pale olive skin. His face was aristocratic, his face perfectly sculpted; a dark Adonis. Her dark Adonis?

_Boys shouldn't be so pretty, _she thought morosely.

He saw her sadden a little, and before he knew what he was doing, he slowly herded her against one of the bookshelves, never breaking eye contact with her. Sirius saw a bit of fear leap to her eyes as she bumped into the shelf, but he didn't let up, bringing his arms to hold hers to her sides. Isolde's lips parted and Sirius slowly bent his head, carefully nudging her just enough so that he could meet her lips with his.

It was a chaste kiss, but it was still passionate in its purity, the emotion behind it. She gasped when she felt a jolt slide up her spine and he felt it too, wrapping his arms around her waist as hers went around his neck. It took a sharp throat clearing to break the two apart, Sirius turning to see who it was.

Met with the surly visage of Severus Snape, he fled, pecking Isolde on the cheek as he swept away to try and clear his muddled head.

Isolde slumped against the bookshelf and slid to the floor, ignoring the tirade Severus was currently throwing her way.

_What have I gotten myself into?

* * *

_Hermione met Severus outside the library once he had tired himself out from shouting at Isolde over her "stupidity and utter lack of foresight" for nearly half an hour while Isolde just curled into fetal position, facing the unforgiving bookshelves while Severus made slow careful cuts into her psyche. He had left her there, shivering between the bookshelves.

"Severus, what happened?" Hermione asked carefully, wary of the scowl he wore, remembering it from her days in the future as her Potions Master's trademark expression.

"Chase!" he cried, "I saw them! Her and Black—together!" He sounded nearly hysterical, almost comical for someone who rarely released control of his emotions, least of all in a public place.

Hermione pulled them into an alcove and cradled Severus's face between cool hands, pressing her forehead against his, satisfied when his eyes closed and his breathing slowed. She kissed him gently on the mouth, soothing him before pulling away.

"What happened, Sev? You can tell me."

"I-she kissed him. I saw Isolde kissing Black!"

"And what is so bad about that?"

"They're not supposed to like each other! She's a Slytherin and he is a Gryffindor who's been my worst nightmare for years and years and now she's kissing him! She's supposed to be my friend." He leaned against the wall, pouting quietly to himself.

"Severus, how long have you two been friends?"

"Just since you got here, sweet."

"And before that?"

"We—" He paused, hesitant about the truth. Severus had never spoken to her before this year, usually just joining the other Slytherins in taunting her and teasing her or simply ignoring her in a Slytherin-wide lockout, cold-shouldering her for months on end. He was no better than Black, really, and worse, in a way, because he was now trying to be her dictator. "She's let us neglect her."

Severus Snape would have to apologize. Even worse, he would have to mean it. Sighing, he grabbed Hermione's hand and led her down to the kitchens.

They both had reparations to make.


	10. Chapter 10

I tried something a little new in this chapter, and I hope you all like it. Thanks for the continually kind reviews (I haven't gotten flamed yet *knock on wood*) and I hope that you keep on telling me how I'm doing. i have officially run out of pre-written stuff that I can use now, so expect an update a week or so, as I'm in school and I don't really have a whole lot of time to devote to this, but life should hopefully calm down soon and that'll mean more posts!

* * *

Blackbird Fly

**_Ten_**

When Severus and Hermione knocked on Isolde's door, one carrying a huge bowl of pasta and meatballs, the other carrying salad, biscuits and pumpkin juice, they didn't get an answer. Not that they weren't expecting that, they just didn't know what to expect from an angry Isolde Chase.

Severus knocked again, shifting the large bowl of pasta into one arm, balancing it on his shin. Isolde did open the door this time, wearing a pair of too-large men's boxers (red and blue with Spiderman all over them; "My Spidey Senses are tingling" was written across the back over Isolde's bum) and a tight black tank top. She crossed her arms and glowered at them, seeming to usher them in, but before Severus could take a step, she gave them a gleeful smile before slamming the door in his face, nearly tipping the hot pasta into his lap.

Just before the door had fully closed, he slammed himself into it, banging it open again. He crossed to the desk and thrust the bowl of pasta onto it. He then turned to Isolde and crushed her to him, her head buried in his chest, held there by a spidery hand. She struggled, and they heard a muffled, "What the hell are you doing?!" as Isolde tried to yell; his robes got in the way of her mouth. She spat them out as Severus let her go.

"Zelda, I'm so sorry; I just . . . I snapped, okay?"

"It still doesn't give you the right to shout at me for half an hour about who I can and cannot like! Besides, he's been a far better friend to me than either of you two this week!"

"I'm sorry, Isolde. We both are," Hermione said, coming forward and clasping Isolde's hand. "You can forgive us, can't you?"

Isolde gazed at their disconsolate faces and glanced at the meal they had brought.

"Well . . . do you have any garlic bread in there?"

Severus plunged a hand into the pockets of his robes, pulling out a tiny loaf of garlic bread, which he resized and handed to her. She ripped off a piece of it and popped it in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully as Severus and Hermione watched with baited breath.

After swallowing, Isolde looked at both of their forlorn faces and ripped three small pieces of parchment and transfigured them into plates. Hermione smiled, relieved, and pulled out serving utensils and silverware as Severus placed the food on the table. Isolde got her record player down and put on some music for the three to listen to as they ate together and talked together, none of them acknowledging the time as they dropped off to sleep, one by one.

* * *

Severus's eyes moved under his eyelids as he drifted into REM sleep, the colors swirling in his vision and creating distorted pictures . . .

* * *

_He was walking, that much he knew. The dust swirled around his feet, dirtying the hemline of his robes as his robes fluttered and billowed_

_

* * *

  
_

_ . . . as Hermione watched him walk gracefully down the corridor, hoping to surprise him as he patrolled the corridors; his skills in finding trouble-makers and snogging couples in the future seemed to stem from his days as a Slytherin prefect._

_She clutched the robe tighter around herself, ensuring that the nude body underneath was covered before stepping out into the hallway and dropping the robe, feeling the smooth fabric slide down her legs, covering the floor _

_

* * *

  
_

_around his ankles, the heavy wool flying out around him as he strode. A voice called to him from across the grounds, and he saw a dazedly waving Isolde standing dreamily by the lake. _

_He tried to call her, finding that he had no voice, that he wasn't making any sounds at all. The only thing he could hear was the gentle lapping of water on the misty shores. _

_Severus reached Isolde and nudged her gently, but she just stood, deadened and dull-witted. Lazily, slowly, as though dragging it through water, she raised a slow arm and gestured to the glass-smooth surface of the water, red eyes gleaming in her pallid face. _

_He did as she bade him, kneeling in the moist earth, to peer into the water, gasping as he saw _

_

* * *

  
_

_ . . . him turn to her, eyes bright in the wand light. She gasped, squirming a little under his scrutiny before he broke into a sudden run, flying at her from the other end of the hallway._

_Hermione gasped as he disappeared in mid-step and she called his name, rewarded with the resounding silence in the hallway. An ominous breath landed in her neck, hot against the clammy skin._

_Terrified, Hermione turned on her heel, nearly falling when she saw _

_

* * *

  
_

_the face gazing back at him._

_His hair was lank and limp and the skin of his face had begun to sag, sallow and pale from all of his time in the dungeons. The hawkish, beaky nose stuck out from his face, a hideous protrusion and his teeth were rotted and yellowed. He watched the face as one would watch a car accident or a train wreck, entranced by the skeletal features and sunken eyes and cheeks. _

_He managed to tear himself away, choking out a garbled, guttural sound, but still no words. He clasped Isolde's hand, supplicating himself before her. Isolde merely glanced at his hand and his pitiful form kneeling in the mud before slowly retracting her arm and stepping away. _

_Severus's heart leapt as he saw_

_

* * *

  
_

_Professor Snape's hawkish visage appear in the moonlight streaking through the nearby window. Not her Severus, no; it was her professor, who had apparently been doing his patrols when he stumbled on the naked (for she was now, in both literal and figurative sense) Gryffindor._

_She felt his arms snake their way around her waist and his pressed himself into her, his hands playing with the skin on her lower stomach and pelvis. She felt goose-pimples as his nose snuffled into her wild hair as his hands carefully slipped lower, bringing her bum in contact with his tented trousers._

_Hermione inhaled sharply as she felt IT, hard against her soft body. Her eyes slipped closed as she heard a breathy whisper in her ear._

_"I'm very disappointed in you, Miss Granger. This is hardly behavior becoming of such an exemplary student." He caressed the words, melting them as they spoke, and Hermione felt unstable, as though her poor knees couldn't hold her._

_She turned in his arms, pulling his head down to bring him closer to _

_

* * *

  
_

_her fall out of her trance, shaking her head and trembling. He picked himself up, going to her and squeezing her arms; he wanted to hold her, console her, but she wouldn't let him, stepping away again, still shaking her head and beginning to sob quietly, her hands covering her face and her shoulders shaking._

_He gently took her hands away from her face, tilting her chin with a gentle finger to see her face. He stepped back voluntarily, taken aback._

_Her eyes were shining brightly as bloody tears trailed down ashen cheeks. He felt himself mouth her name as she just stared back at him, the blood drying in red streaks. Isolde opened her mouth, keening a sharp note before coming close and frantically whispering,_

_

* * *

  
_

_"Maybe this is just my way of telling you who my favorite professor is, sir."_

_He began to ghost feathery kisses along her jaw line, his lips slowly trailing towards her mouth. Hermione claimed his lips, too impatient to wait for him, sighing into the kiss as they met. His fingers traced lazily down her spine, reaching her buttocks and squeezing lasciviously._

_Hermione pulled away, a twinkle in her eye. _

_She opened her mouth, the soft lips parting sinfully, and it seemed to take Severus a moment to realize that she was saying,_

_

* * *

  
_

"_The Gardener's coming to collect."_

_Alarmed, Severus tried to pin her with a sharp gaze, hoping he could make her explain, but he was distracted by a vision of Helene walking out of the Forbidden Forest, her arms open to him. Relieved, he began to run to her, feeling the ground stretch as he got closer to her, pulling him away. As he got closer, he saw her spin, shrinking and turning rapidly. Severus felt an invisible barrier break as he reached her, grabbing hold of her._

_"Helene," he whispered, turning her around. _

_His eyes bugged out as he realized that his arms were wrapped around a Gryffindor First-Year, who seemed to be terrified of him. It most certainly was Helene, but it certainly wasn't her._

_"Professor," she said, _

_

* * *

  
_

_"what do you say to taking this to somewhere less exposed?" She could see him pondering the idea a moment, her mind travelling to delicious places: his quarters, her quarters, his office, his classroom . . . _

It was strange_, she thought, _to have a sex dream about her once least-favorite professor.

_She hadn't noticed his eager nod until she was scooped up in his arms, the wool of his robes warming her cold flesh. The rational Hermione was furious off course, but Hermione couldn't hear her, as_

_

* * *

  
_

_her voice sounding far away and blown around by the wind, "what are you doing?"_

_When he found he could not respond, she tore his arms away from her, bolting off into the distance before he felt the world dissolve away . . ._

_

* * *

  
_

In another world, he woke up screaming and crying hoarsely.

* * *

In another world, she woke up, moaning and mewling softly.

* * *

Isolde was woken up by the two of them, wondering what the hell they were dreaming about, and (based on the sounds she was making) wondering if Hermione would spill the juicy details later. She couldn't remember what she dreamt, just remembering a red glow and the acute feeling on loneliness and abandonment.

* * *

Professor Dumbledore stood at the podium the next morning to make his usual morning announcements, adding a special note due to the festivities later that day.

"Classes will be cancelled this afternoon in order to give our students a chance to refresh themselves before the Ball tonight as well as to give our professors a chance to decorate the Hall. Dinner will be served buffet-style to each common room at five-thirty; light refreshments will be served at tonight's Masquerade. The Masquerade will begin at eight o'clock and the unveiling will be at midnight. Curfew is at one-thirty; any students caught in violation of this rule face a week of detentions with Mr. Filch. I expect," he said sternly, peering over his glasses at the students, "all students to behave in accordance with the upstanding reputation of his or her respective House and Hogwarts as a whole."

The Trio, as Hermione had taken to calling their little pseudo-clique, barely noted the announcement, as they were busy trying to perk themselves up for the few upcoming classes they had as well as for the festivities. Their bleary eyes would slump closed every so often before they would recover their senses and get a bit more food to keep them awake.

Hermione only had to go to two of her classes, Transfiguration and Arithmancy, as did Severus. Isolde had Transfiguration, Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. Once classes were over, they would eat a quick lunch before the girls went off to pamper themselves before the Ball, Hermione having purchased some nice bath things during the Hogsmeade trip. Isolde had a manicure set lying around for them to use. Hermione was looking forward to the girl time; she had never gotten much of it, being that she was best friends with Harry and Ron.

Severus and Hermione looked at Isolde expectantly after the announcement, both eager to set off for Transfiguration; they happened to be firm believers in the idea that if one starts early, one finishes early. Isolde waved them off, watching fondly as Helene took Severus's arm. She finished her breakfast leisurely, savoring each crumb of the lemon poppy seed muffin she had taken from the pile of pastries.

It wasn't long before she felt eyes boring into her back. Turning around, she saw Sirius Black gazing at her, a sheepish smile on his face. Isolde gave him a tiny wave; he responded by blowing her a nearly imperceptible kiss across the Hall. She blushed fiercely as she drained her juice and grabbed her bag, setting off for Transfiguration.


	11. Chapter 11

I am so incredibly sorry that it took me so long to get this out. I won't get into the time issues, but I had life and school to deal with as well as the fact that I am currently out of material for now, so this is written from scratch and the proofreading . . . I'm sure there are still mistakes in there. In any case, read and review; you know the drill by now! Thanks and love! (I'll try to get the next chapter out a bit faster, though.)

* * *

Blackbird Fly

_**Eleven**_

Isolde crept out into the common room, completely ready for the coming Masquerade as she and Helene had spent the last five hours or so doing their toilette, which included but was not limited to: showering (separately, of course), moisturizing, shaving whatever needed shaving, hair, make-up, nails, getting dressed, wolfing down a quick dinner. Girl time really was quite exhausting, even though her classes were all obnoxiously easy (no professor was foolish enough to actually teach on a day like today) and she had taken a lovely cat nap before Helene had dropped by at half after two.

Either way, it time for the final step of her plan; her intention was to sneak Helene out of the dungeons so that she could make a dramatic entrance down the Grand Staircase and look like a queen while Severus watched, awed by her beauty. Merlin, she really was quite a romantic.

She heard Helene hiss at her to snap her back to Earth, and Isolde motioned to her to cross the common room, hustling her out through the wall and up a secret passage Helene had showed her not too long ago, forgetting that Helene should have no knowledge of such a thing. They hurried past puzzled glances up to the Entrance Hall and into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, equally grateful for the Cushioning Charms they had applied to their shoes.

"Who's there?" Myrtle called, sitting on her favorite U-bend as the girls walked in, still trying to find the mistakes in their costumes while complimenting the other.

"Hullo, Myrtle! I am hoping you will come to the Ball this evening. Will you be there?" Isolde asked chummily. Hermione looked at her in surprise, a clutch purse she had borrowed from Isolde gaping open as she dug through it with gloved hands (also borrowed—thank Merlin her friend had good taste!), searching for her lipstick and checking that her little surprise was in order. "I've been coming here since third year; Myrtle and I are great friends now, aren't we? Ever since I walked in crying after . . . well, it doesn't matter now. But we got to talking, and we have a great deal in common."

Myrtle sniffed. "You're going to go off and live your life though, after this year. Who will I talk to then?" She began to bawl heartily, far louder than Hermione had ever heard her do in the future, but Isolde calmed her down by making contact with a ghostly shoulder until the girl calmed down.

Hermione looked at her curiously, surprised that Isolde would commit what she believed to be such an incredible breach of etiquette, but Isolde murmured to her, "It calms her down. My touch makes her a bit warmer, and I can pass her some good thoughts to cheer her up."

Myrtle sniffed again, picking her face up out of her hands and smiling shyly at them. "You promise I'll see you then?"

"Of course, Myrtle—why would I lie to one of my best friends?"

The ghost was apparently satisfied with her response, zooming down her toilet and, ostensibly, out to the Masquerade. Isolde waved good-bye as Myrtle left, sighing a little as she dragged Hermione to the mirror, the two of them primping a little before Isolde deemed them fashionably late, Hermione chomping at the bit to go so as not to be late.

Once it was around fifteen minutes past the start of the Ball (Isolde was amazed that Helene knew the time without a clock), Hermione had, with excessive force, dragged Isolde down to the first floor, nails digging into the girl's pale arm.

* * *

It was time. He had been waiting for fifteen minutes, unsurprised by his date's late arrival, as he knew Isolde wanted her to make a dramatic entrance. Severus scoffed at his dear friend's romanticism, but he loved her nonetheless. Sighing at the thought of Helene, he began to pace the Entrance Hall, tracing a somber path from the jewel-filled hourglasses to the left banister of the marble stairs. At the slightest noise, he would turn to face the stairs, hope filling his dark features before it flooded out of him as he was greeted by thin air or someone who wasn't her.

By his twelfth—or was it eleventh—turn back to the hourglasses (Ravenclaw had the lead in House Points), Severus was greeted by the sight of another boy, dressed in a red costume with devil horns adorning downy black hair casually resting against Gryffindor's hourglass. Inclining his head, he greeted the other, who responded in kind. Severus then stood with him (though he stood at perfect attention) next to the Slytherin hourglass, watching the other boy as best he could out of the corner of his eye (the mask cut off a great deal of his peripheral vision, irritating him greatly) as the other boy leaned elegantly against the Gryffindor hourglass, shoulders hunched and back slumped.

As he was about to ask the name of his fellow, Severus heard a soft foot-fall on the marble stair and a delicate clearing of the throat.

Helene was slowly descending the stairs, one corner of her long dress held in her black-gloved hand as the other traced down the banister, clutch wrapped around her wrist. She smiled at him as he swept toward her, a rose held limply in his pale hand. Using his wand, he cut and Vanished the stem, tucking the flower behind her ear, brushing errant curls as he did so.

The hair he touched was a red-streaked jet black, and the black mask made her eyes deep and dark; smiling red lips stood out against creamy skin. The dress she wore had a tight black corset-like bodice, accented by puffed red-patterned sleeves and a belled skirt in a matching fabric. Her sleeves were long, tapering to a point as they reached her hand; Severus carefully removed the gloves from each hand, laying a kiss on her fingertips as he did so, returning the gloves to her so that she could put them in her clutch.

Isolde watched from the first floor, ducking behind a corner when she thought that he had seen her watching, though the fond smile on her face grew as Helene slipped an arm through Severus's, their fingers winding together as they walked to the Great Hall. The large wooden doors closed behind them as Isolde slipped out of her hiding spot, walking carefully down the stairs so as not to fall in the slightly higher-than-comfortable shoes.

She heard a light chuckle as she took her tentative steps, scowling as she reached the bottom of the stairs and ready to give someone a good tell-off. The boy who had laughed was making his way to her, loping gracefully across the tiled floor.

Isolde opened her mouth to tell him off, but he had clasped her hand and gave it a feathery kiss, his grey eyes meeting hers. The boy stepped closer, twirling a strand of her hair between his fingers; she had charmed it white for the occasion.

"You look beautiful, you know," he said lightly, as though he hadn't noticed the rosy flush of her cheeks or her shortness of breath.

"And you look like a stranger. Who are you?"

"Let's leave that as something for you to find out, shall we?" he asked, taking her arm and leading her to the doors.

He laid a hand on the small of her back, kissing her cheek as he did so. In that same moment, Isolde decided to throw caution to the winds—to trust the familiar stranger to be the one guy in the world who wouldn't turn out to be a jerk. In silent acquiescence, she tilted her head to his shoulder, her eyes fluttering closed as they took tiny steps towards the Great Hall, their interest diverted from the Ball to one another, to learn each other in whatever way they could; Isolde promised herself that she wouldn't screw this up.

Nearly Headless Nick swooped up behind them, breaking the spell they held over each other and chastising them into the Ball with short, "Into the ball! In! That's where I'd be if I were alive and able to dance with such a lovely, young thing like her—not up to any crazy shenanigans, eh, Mr.—"

The boy hushed him before he could continue, assuring the ghost that he would be dancing every dance with his "lovely, young thing" and leading her into the Ball.

* * *

The students were still milling about aimlessly as Hermione and Severus entered the Hall, as the Ball wouldn't open until a little after half-past with a Head dance. The band that had been hired was still setting up, leaving the students and the in-costume professors to fully admire everyone else's costume in the dim light, Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkling with mirth when he saw Remus Lupin in his mask and nightdress as the wolf from "Little Red Riding Hood." He himself was dressed in a bright yellow jumpsuit with belled sleeves and flared bottoms as a Lemon Drop, his hair and beard charmed a bright yellow with a plastic-wrapped pointy hat on his head, and he had plenty for everyone, tossing them to whoever caught his eye.

Severus and Hermione barely noticed the rest of their classmates, each one too busy running careful eyes over the other, admiring the figure they cut in their respective costumes; they were flattering on both of them, and Hermione had been remembering the bat-like Professor Snape of her day. _If he knew how incredible he looks, he would take the vampire references as compliments . . . _ They chose a table in the back corner that was unoccupied by snogging couples, pulling chairs together so that they wouldn't lose contact.

It wasn't long before Professor Dumbledore made his way to the podium, still tossing out Lemon Drops to the people on the floor of the Great Hall. The band played a tuning note before he spoke, motioning to everyone to be quiet.

"If I could please have quiet, the Ball can begin with the Head Boy and Girls' dance—"

He was cut off as a black-haired Devil and a white-haired Angel entered the Hall, a flash of light behind them as the doors opened and closed quickly; they had obviously been hoping to sneak in, but the attempt was thwarted by the sudden brightness and the closing of the door behind them. The crowd went silent as Professor Dumbledore peered through the glasses perched on his nose, smiling as he saw the faces of the two late-comers.

She wore a long dress of grey silk and tattered lace, angelic wings sprouting from her back and the grey lace swaying as she walked. Her white hair cascaded down her back, adorned by a halo of grey roses, her face hidden by a lacy mask, though her eyes glinted with excitement as she turned to look at the confident boy next to her, hands clasped around his arm. She smiled shyly, looking around at the staring audience that they had unintentionally accumulated, though the boy seemed perfectly used to it. The Angel whispered in his ear and he smirked, drawing her closer to him and pulling the red cape around her as they walked, revealing a tight red vest and tailored black trousers. His other hand went around the other side of her body, his hands joined over her stomach. The Devil caught Professor Dumbledore's eye, nodding inconspicuously, telling him to open the Ball and motioning to the open-mouthed Lily and James to take the center of the dance floor.

"Yes, yes—very good then. Are we all here? Wonderful! Let the Halloween Masquerade begin!"

* * *

Severus scowled as Lily and James circled the dance floor, though it was amusing to see the short witch try to hold onto him, as he was even taller than normal in his stilettos. He was also a bit disgusted by the sight of James's pale, lightly freckled shins—that was something he could have lived without. His brow arched when he noticed that James had apparently stuffed his chest with tissue or the like, based on the two mysterious, slightly asymmetrical lumps on his chest. Helene stroked his hand with her thumb, laying her head on his shoulder as she watched the Head Boy and Girl dance.

He was wistful as he watched them, remembering the way he had once longed for her soft words . . .

"You loved her once." It wasn't a question. Severus hung his head, sighing as he raised his eyes to meet hers.

"A long time ago," he breathed softly. "A very long time ago, and I've left that behind. I've left her behind."

"When?" She sounded skeptical.

"When I knew I cared for you." It was the closest thing to "I love you" as he would get for the moment, terrified of scaring her away from him. "You know that, Helene."

"Yes, I do." She pressed her lips to his cheek, smiling as she did so.

The dance ended with half-hearted applause from the two of them as Severus began to scan the crowd for Isolde. "Do you know where Zelda is?" he asked finally, unable to find her in the mass of people.

"She came in late—the Angel with the Devil."

"What?"

"You saw her; you were scowling at the two of them. I could see you out of the corner of my eye." Hermione simply couldn't keep the smugness out of her tone. "She and her . . . erm . . . date are coming over here right now, actually."

Devil (as Severus had decided to call him for lack of a better name) pulled out a chair at the opposite side of the table, taking the seat next to her for his own, greeting both Hermione and Severus with a nod and a smile. Severus nodded back as Hermione murmured basic courtesies, stopping just shy of, "Lovely weather we're having, eh?" (It was a bit redundant with them being inside the Great Hall and having a charmed ceiling showing a fierce storm that they all knew wasn't happening.)

None of them really knew what to say and a hush fell over the table, pleasant conversation muted by the mutual distrust they held for one another in some way or another.

Isolde didn't trust Severus to "permit" her to see the Devil in any capacity and she couldn't trust Helene to back her up if she needed it. She couldn't even say that she knew the Devil well enough to trust him, although there was something that just felt so . . . just "so" about being with him and he felt familiar enough.

Helene didn't trust Severus's volatile temper, Isolde's trust in strangers nor the smirking Devil across from her.

Severus didn't trust Helene to take his side if things came to a head (no matter how much they

. . . cared for one another), nor did he put his faith in Isolde's . . . taste in companionship. He certainly didn't know what to think of the Devil.

And the Devil . . . he only had Isolde and she didn't even know who she was.

It certainly would be an interesting night.


	12. Chapter 12

Hah! I didn't think this would be ready so soon, but here it is. Read and review--how else do I know if I'm doing well. Story alerts and favorites and whatnot are nice, but reviews are just . . . fantastic.

* * *

**_Twelve_**

The Great Hall on the night of this particular Halloween Masquerade Ball was certainly a sight to see. The professors had outdone themselves on the Hall's décor, transforming it from a benign dining area to a gothic splendor worthy of any tortured author's imagination.

Simply lit torches lined the walls, held in place by ornate iron twists and spikes. Arches extended from the stone floor to the heightened ceiling, charmed to display a fierce storm of thunder and lightning, tossing dark shadows when the lightning flashed and thunder roared. Gargoyles topped each archway, grotesque faces leering and grimacing over the Hall, supervising the inhabitants of the Hall. The place of the Head table was cleared to make way for a band stage and the traditional Hogwarts podium; smaller, circular tables were arranged in clusters and corners around the Hall, though a table bearing nibbles and light refreshments was placed against one of the longer walls.

The gardens outside the Great Hall had been transformed, too, their terraces and flowers deadened and dour for the occasion. The air was thick with cloudy mists that circled and swerved through the grounds. The roses that Severus would later destroy so callously were charmed a pure jet black and the statues were menacing, demons instead of cherubs, monsters with claws and talons instead of mythical creatures and Greek gods. The Whomping Willow looked dead and dull and the trees by the lake were shrouded in shadows and night.

The atmosphere was, it was later agreed, one of the reasons the Masquerade was such a success that year; each and every student would, in time, enjoy themselves, not that our heroes' table had joined the fun yet.

* * *

Severus, Isolde, Hermione and the Devil were all exchanging glances with their respective dates and friends, but the silence refused to abate until the Devil stood and offered Isolde his hand as a slow song wafted through the air.

He brought his hand around her waist as he took the other; her arm snaked up to his shoulder and her head rested on his chest. The Devil rested his head on top of hers, kissing the top of her hair and whispering soft nothings into her ear. Hermione cocked her head as she watched them dance, scanning the crowd for seventh-years to try and figure out who he was as Severus caressed her hand. She turned to face him, concentrating on the Devil's identity as he asked her to dance.

Severus stood, taking her hand as Hermione nodded dumbly, rising with him and placing her arms around his neck as his fell to her back, swaying to the music and pulling her closer. Hermione still flicked through the crowd over his shoulder, smirking when she saw Remus's costume and grimacing when she saw Peter. Lily and James were dancing together across the Hall, which left one Marauder puzzlingly unaccounted for. Where the hell was Sirius Black?

He certainly wasn't on the sidelines with Peter and Remus; they had claimed he was too much of a ladies' man for that. Nor was Sirius with any of his usual girls, all of them were in either Hufflepuff or Gryffindor House and in sixth or seventh year, as he felt nothing but animosity towards Slytherins (except Isolde, at least) and he felt that Ravenclaws were too stuffy and prudish. He also, thankfully, refused to date younger that sixth year, much to many a preteen's disappointment. Having gone through the list of his "usuals," most of whom were paired up with another boy or sulking at their tables, Hermione gave up, frustrated and distracted by Severus's strong grip and warm body and clean scent. Snuggling into him, she caught a quick glimpse of the Devil as he twirled Isolde and caught her again.

That was when it hit her.

It was time for a trip to the Ladies'.

* * *

The song ended on a faded, warbling note, giving Hermione enough time to kiss Severus gently on the mouth before telling him that she had to go talk to their erstwhile friend. He nodded once, curtly, transposing himself over Professor Snape for that brief moment; Hermione watched him billow away in amazement, her eyes wide and her heart sick with worry that he would become him.

Either way, it was a head-strong Hermione who went to grab Isolde, nearly dragging the poor girl away from a confused Devil and into the Ladies' bathroom for a quick chat about the identity of her date.

Once a quick _Muffliato_ had been cast, Hermione spoke quickly, a bit frightened of the look on her friend's face; Isolde was no easy-to-push-around Harry or Ron. "Zelda, you might not like this, but I don't want you to get hurt because of your date and I think I know who he is."

Overwhelmed by curiosity and the amusingly supplicating look on Hermione's face, Isolde nodded, her face impassive.

Encouraged by the lack of anger, Hermione continued, saying, "I was looking through the crowd to try and figure out who it was because I was worried (so is Severus, by the way—I'm certain he was doing the same) and I think the Devil is Sirius Black!"

Isolde smiled, transcendent in her joy.

"Good."

Before Hermione could say a word, Isolde turned to leave the bathroom, pausing before she opened the door to say, "Don't tell Severus."

* * *

Severus watched as Isolde nearly floated out of the bathroom, a smile on her face and her arms open to the Devil waiting for her. The Devil embraced her briefly before sliding his hand to hers, leading her out to the gardens, Severus glowering at the two of them. His head snapped to the bathroom door when Helene emerged, her brow furrowed and her eyes troubled.

"What did she say?" he asked anxiously.

"She said it was okay. Isolde likes her date, Severus."

"I had gathered that. Who is he?"

"She asked me not to tell you, love. You'll only be more upset if you hear it from me, I promise."

"I don't like it either way."

"I know, Severus. I know. But I think he likes her too. She told me about him before the Masquerade, not that she knew he would be the Devil."

"Oh. Would you like to take a walk with me?" Severus asked, tilting her chin with one long finger, grateful that Helene hadn't seen Isolde and her Devil leave for the grounds. He gave her a soft kiss, his tongue tracing the red lips he had been admiring for so long. Sighing, he pulled away, smirking when he saw her star-crossed eyes open, her acquiescence in the form of a soft smile.

He opened the door for her, holding it until Helene had passed through before taking her arm for a stroll through the rose gardens. "Helene," he said softly, "tell me about you."

The question took her aback. "What? Why?"

"I hardly know you," he said simply. "I wish to know you better than you know yourself, in," here he paused, "every way I can."

Her mind raced, aware of the double entendre in his words and racking her brain for a believable back-story. "Erm . . . I grew up outside of London. My father is from France and he met my mother during a conference between the French and British Ministries. They got married a year later and had me. That's a lot of it, really."

"Tell me more," Severus wheedled, wondering why she was lying to him so blatantly. _It was amusing,_ he thought, _to see that she thinks she is fooling me. But why does she feel the need to?_

"I never really had a lot of friends, though I did go to the primary school nearby. I couldn't control my magic, really, and I was ugly and far too book-smart. My parents divorced when I was ten, and since my father got full custody, he sent me to Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts."

Severus smiled mentally, looking at a nearby rose so that she wouldn't see the disbelief that he knew had been etched on his face. "And your friends there?"

"I had two, both boys in my year. Larry had red hair and blue eyes and we dated for a while, but it didn't work out, thank the gods. He was into Quidditch and had abominable table manners, though he was also incredibly funny and one of the greatest chess players I've ever seen. Don had black hair and the greenest eyes I've ever seen. He was the brother I never had, really. He played Quidditch too, the youngest Seeker in our school. They got me into so much trouble once we became friends, but that wasn't until a little into our first year. I'm always wondering how they manage to do without my color-coded study schedules."

Severus noticed the half-truths, fully aware that both boys were real but that Helene was still lying to him about almost everything. He began to simmer, saddened and infuriated that she felt that she had to lie to him. Helene was still chattering.

"I came here because my father died in a car accident in the beginning of the school year and I had to come here and live with Mum."

"I'm sorry." The words were automatic, fake and probably unnecessary, based on the sweaty palms and the quickened pulse he felt on her wrist.

They opened their mouths at the same time, he to accuse and she to ask about him. Courteously, ever the gentleman (when he wanted to be), he allowed her to speak first. "Tell me about you, Severus. I feel the same way."

Wishing he could confront her now, he told her.

"I'm a half-blood. My mother comes from a long line of Purebloods, the Princes, and my father is a no-count Muggle. When Tobias," he spat the name, "found out that I could do magic, he confronted her and she told him everything. He's hated her and me ever since." He chose not to go into more detail, as her eyes were suspiciously wet, glistening in the moonlight.

"I hadn't any friends, as my father had decided that I wasn't 'normal' enough for school with 'normal' children. Most of my time was spent reading, not that that pleased him either. I was friends with Lily Evans before I came here and we remained such until fifth year when I called her," he shifted awkwardly, unable to meet her eyes, "a Mudblood. It was out of anger. James Potter and his cronies had flipped me upside down after OWLs and everyone could see my . . . underpants. Lily tried to help me and I got mad. She hasn't really spoken to me since."

"Oh, Severus," she sighed, tilting her head up to kiss him. He grabbed her fiercely, holding her as if to save his life, his kiss possessive and deep. Severus pressed her into the hedges, thrusting a leg between hers and drawing a soft moan from her lips. Her hips pressed into his, the arousal between them growing as his hands traveled down to give her bum a soft squeeze. She broke the kiss, giving her attention to his neck, lips trailing between his jaw and his shoulder; his hands ran up and down her body, memorizing the dips and curves, wondering how soft her skin was.

Groaning, Severus regained his control, pulling his head back and pressing her arms into the hedge. "I'm sorry, 'Lene, but I won't be able to control myself if this goes on for much longer." He tilted his hips into her meaningfully and met her eyes, pleased to see a soft "O" of surprise on her face. Severus withdrew his leg, his hands caressing her arms and slowly taking her hands in his.

"When the time is right," he vowed, kissing her left hand. "I promise."

* * *

Sirius led Isolde down to the lake, opening the vines of the willow tree for her to enter the little glade, holding her as they just looked at each other, her red eyes sparkling. He lowered his forehead, crashing it into her and nuzzling her gently as she held him tighter.

"Sirius . . ." The breathy whisper hit his ear lightly and his eyes closed, savoring the sound of it. When he opened them, she was still gazing into his eyes.

"I've got something I should tell you, Philomel." He stepped back from Isolde as she wrapped her arms around herself, looking nervous as to what would come. "Close your eyes. You'll know when to open them."

Mentally, Sirius focused on the feeling of Padfoot, his body easily changing into that of the dog's. Barking, he knew, would give the surprise away, so he butted his head against Isolde's hip, watching her eyes fly open in surprise, widening when she made the connection. Isolde knelt smiling, throwing her arms around his neck. "Puppy!"

Sirius changed back in her arms, kissing her check as she did so. "You aren't mad at me, then, Philomel?"

"Never, Puppy. Not as long as you teach me."

He considered it playfully until she jabbed him in the ribs. "Well, I suppose it would be fun to have a bird to run around with."

Isolde rolled her eyes, smiling at the pun. "Thanks, Sirius. For everything."

"Think nothing of it. You're worth everything, Isolde. I mean that. I-I date a lot and I know I've not got the best reputation when it comes to birds like you, but you're not like them, and I mean that in the least clichéd manner possible. I mean, you're a Slytherin and you're quiet and . . . Merlin, just everything."

Isolde met his eyes with hers. Gryffindor red.

"Go steady with me, Philomel. Give me a chance."

She cradled his face, both of them still kneeling. "You never even had to ask. Just don't cock it up, okay?"

Smiling, he kissed her. "I could figure that out on my own," he murmured against her lips. Kissing her once more, a teasing slip of the tongue, he raised her up, cleaning the leaves off of her dress and his trousers before twining fingers and going back to the Ball, each sporting a silly grin, unable to look away from the other for long.

* * *

The group had returned to the Great Hall by ten, a mere two hours away from the unmasking. Severus asked Isolde for a dance to gauge her reactions to the Devil while Sirius (still unknown to most of the Ball) led Helene to the floor.

"Is he being . . . proper with you, Zelda?"

She giggled at the absurdity of the question. "Yes, Severus, most proper. Now, would you mind not acting like my father?" Isolde asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked. "Only if you behave yourself."

The straight, impassive face forced Isolde into breaking into laughter, followed shortly by Severus. He hugged her tightly, resting his head on hers and whispering, "Just don't let him hurt you, alright?"

"If he hurts me, then I'll work it out. I'm worried about what will happen if I hurt him," Isolde said, her eyes drifting to find him in the crowd. "I mean, I don't really know all that much about him, do I?" She laughed prettily, prompting a wry smile from Severus.

The dance ended, the two turning their dance into a hug before Isolde stepped out of Severus's arms, giving him a peck on the cheek as she did so. The Devil was by her side in an instant, Helene on his arm; he and Severus traded partners before they focused their attention on their respective dates, Devil and Isolde dancing together and Severus and Hermione moving to get some nibbles and return to their table.

As Hermione collected a small platter of chocolate dipped strawberries and Severus chose a selection of biscuits for them to share, the Marauders were, as ever, up to no good. Having spotted him in the crowd—with a pretty date, no less—it should have been no surprise as to what happened next.

James Potter, unable to forgive the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of Snivellus's friends, drew his wand, murmuring a rather embarrassing charm; his wand was aimed directly at Severus's back.

Without any warning, Severus threw the small plate of biscuits he had so carefully chosen and grabbed both of Helene's hands, getting down on one knee and bellowing like a bull . . . in falsetto.

"Loving you is easy 'cause you're beautiful. Makin' love with you is all I wanna do . . . la la la la la la la. Do do do do do . . ."

"Severus!" she shrieked, pulling her hand away and picking the mediocre singer up off his knees as he continued to serenade her, switching to "The Only Thing that Looks Good on Me Is You," possibly the crassest love song written, in her opinion at least. _Well, _she thought grimly, pulling him out of the dance, _at least it's not about havin' his baby . . . Paul Anka. _Hermione shuddered, giving him a pitying smile as she coaxed him out of the Hall (not that it was hard), him following like a puppy and the Devil and Isolde hot on their tracks.

* * *

Mentioned: Paul Anka's "Havin' My Babies" (shudder) and Minne Riperton's "Loving You". (Cover your ears, try not to think about it - but I know that it's stuck in your head. Heh. Heh. Heh.)


	13. Chapter 13

Here it is! Have fun, read (enjoy the song selection) and review!

* * *

Blackbird Fly

_**Thirteen**_

Having pulled the still-bellowing Severus into the Entrance Hall—much to the amusement of the Hall, mind—Hermione and Isolde were lost as to how to release him from the rather embarrassing spell. Several firm _Finite Incantatem_s later, they were still dealing with a love-sick Severus Snape whose his songs were getting catchier and his symptoms more severe.

Sirius twirled his wand in his hand, chuckling as Isolde began singing with him to see what effect that would have on him.

"Gonna grab my baby, gonna hold her tight. Gonna get me some afternoon delight. My motto's always been when it's right, it's right. Why wait until the middle of the cold dark night when everything's a little clearer in the light of day and you know the night is always gonna be there anyway? Sky rockets in flight—afternoon delight!" Isolde grimaced as she sang; the harmonies she had tried didn't work, thanks to Severus's inability to stay on key.

Hermione, meanwhile, grabbed Sirius and led him to the hourglasses while Isolde was swept into Severus's arms for a rather violent tango and loud rendition of "You Light up My Life."

Isolde was struggling and putting up a rather valiant fight as Hermione and Sirius spoke quickly in urgent, quiet tones. Strangled cries floated across the Entrance Hall while Hermione and Sirius figured out a plan, Sirius flourishing his cape and re-entering the Great Hall. He had some Marauders to deal with, having finally recognized a charm which James and Lily had developed over the summer.

Hermione, however, had to deal with an overly affectionate and embarrassing boyfriend. In a manner reminiscent of the schoolyard days of jump roping, Hermione stayed close to the couple, waiting until Severus twirled Isolde far enough away from him so that she could escape while Hermione threw herself into his arms, landing with a soft "Oof!" as Severus caught her and swept her into a deep dip.

Isolde made for the Great Hall to escape, calling over her shoulder, "I'll be back! I swear on Merlin's unknown grave, I'll be back!"

Hermione whimpered a little in response, but that may have been because Severus had just placed his full body weight on her left foot.

* * *

Isolde saw James before Sirius did, drawing her wand as she walked toward them. He was sitting at the Marauders' table and speaking with Lily, Remus and Peter, the four of them laughing at Severus's spell-induced antics. Sneaking up behind James, she poked her wand in his back, speaking sweetly to the four of them.

"I know what you four have done to Severus, even if you weren't necessarily involved in the prank, and I honestly don't mind lying about it to whoever will listen." Seeing that Lily and Peter were about to protest, she continued, saying, "I have my wand in James's back at the moment and a very extensive list of hexes and curses in my repertoire, many of them having painful side effects. I would advise staying quiet until I've had my say." Isolde waited as each of them placed their wand on the table.

"Thank you. Now, you have all managed to ruin what should have been the best night of his depressing life whether by direct action, sycophantic behavior or inability to stand up to your friends. I do intend to make you not only give up the counter-charm, but make you suffer for what he has been put through this evening. How, I don't know, but I can assure you that in time, it will come. Now, all of you will get up and follow me to the Entrance Hall, please, and don't do anything stupid."

The three Marauders and Lily rose at once, marching in a proper single file line behind her; Isolde, feeling the mood, began to whistle in time with their steps, laughing when Sirius reached her, his brow raised and confusion written plainly on his face.

"I told them that they had better come with me if they wanted me to play more nicely with them and then I threatened revenge against them. Stop fussing, Puppy."

Sirius rolled his eyes, grinning a little as she continued to walk, chin out and shoulders high. "Just don't rough 'em up too much, Philomel. I would like my mates in one piece, if you don't mind."

Affronted, Isolde asked, "What must you think of me, Sirius?"

He took her hand, much to the shock of the Gryffindors following them.

* * *

"Muskrat Susie, Muskrat Sam . . . do the jitterbug out in Muskrat Land. And they shimmy, and Sammy's so skinny. And they whirled and they twirled and they tangoed; singin' and jinglin' the jango, floatin' like the heavens above—it looks like muskrat love."

Hermione was, of course, pleased that the song and dance routine had calmed, but the choice of songs was questionable at best. Groaning as he moved into the next verse, she met his eyes, hers pleading that he just _stop singing_. The normally inscrutable black eyes were filled with terror, humiliation and sincere passion for her—them.

Without her realizing it, Isolde pulled her away from Severus, allowing Sirius and Remus to hold him back as James performed the counter-charm. He stepped back as Severus came to, eyes wild and feet still moving in dance. With a wild cry, he broke free of Sirius and Remus, his fist connecting with James's jaw.

"You bastard!" he cried, Sirius and Remus holding him back from James again. Isolde grudgingly healed the bruise on James's cheek as Hermione went to calm Severus, cradling his face in her hands and kissing his face. Lily went to him next, laying a cool hand on his shoulder and whispering her apologies in his ear, tears in her eyes.

Remus just left, as did Peter. They each clapped Sirius on the shoulder and went into the Hall, Severus still fuming behind them. Sirius approached him next.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think they would pull anything tonight."

Severus's eyes widened as he recognized his foe: the Devil. But that means . . .

"You-you and Zelda are together? I-Helene, did you know about this?"

She nodded guiltily as Sirius strode to Isolde, wrapping her in his cloak and holding her close to him. "Sni-Snape, I like Isolde and that's enough. I'm so incredibly sorry for everything that happened and neither of us is innocent here. I'm not going to ask your blessing or your permission. I'm sorry, but you can't push me away from her."

"Severus, he helped you tonight," Hermione chastised gently. "I'm not asking you to be his best friend, but I want you to be civil."

"Should I have been civil when he tried to kill me?" Severus cried hysterically. "Should I keep my peace when I watch Isolde with this-this near-murderer?"

"That wasn't my idea!" Sirius said dumbly. "It was Peter's. I was just supposed to get you out to the Tree. Then you would get scared and run. Peter thought of it, I swear. He said you'd never think it was him; no one would."

Severus just looked at him long and hard before saying, "_Legilimens_." Electric energy passed between the two of them until Severus broke the connection, nodding slowly. "I see that now. Either way, you've got one chance."

"That's all I'll need Snape. That's all I'll need." He kissed Isolde's cheek before ushering her into the Masquerade, ten minutes before the unmasking.

* * *

The dancing ended for a moment at midnight for the unmasking, everyone in trepidation to see the identity of their dance partner or friends who could keep secrets.

Professor Dumbledore signaled the unmasking, taking his place in the spotlight on stage before reverently lifting his mask off its perch on his nose. The professors followed suit, getting on stage and lifting their own masks. They were then followed by the fourth-years, fifth-years and so on, ending with the seventh-years. A slight uproar was caused by none other than Sirius Black, who casually tossed his and his date's masks aside before drawing her in for a deep kiss, much to the chagrin of half the Hall, most of them teenage girls and the odd boy.

Professor Dumbledore merely looked amused by his antics, but he approached the podium, his lemon-drop yellow bell bottoms swinging around his ankles. "If you are finished, Miss Chase, would you please take the stage with your music box?"

Panic-stricken, Isolde turned to face Sirius, babbling as he hugged and kissed her, murmuring little compliments and well-wishes as he did so. Hermione pressed the box into Isolde's hands, having pulled it from the clutch she had brought along, resizing it as she did so.

"Go get 'em!" she whispered fiercely as Isolde took the stage, using an Amplifying Charm to make herself louder.

"Erm . . . I'm Isolde Chase, and I'm a singer. I write my own stuff and I hope you like it. This one is called 'Girl Anachronism.'" She opened the box, whispering, "_Sonorus_," and the song into it and requesting a five second delay. She took her place in center stage, hanging her head as the Hall filled with the sound of piano music, the same eerie lullaby-like tune wafting over the crowd. Suddenly, Isolde lifted her head, shouting, "One! Two! Three! Four!" She groaned, her head turning on her neck before snapping upright as she began to sing.

"You can tell from the scars on my arms  
and cracks in my hips  
and the dents in my car  
and the blisters on my lips  
that I'm not the carefullest of girls.

You can tell  
from the glass on the floor  
and the strings that're breaking  
and I keep on breaking more  
and it looks like I am shaking  
but it's just the temperature  
and then again  
if it were any colder I could disengage  
if I were any older I would act my age  
but I don't think that you'd believe me!  
It's. Not. The. Way. I'm. Meant. To. Be.  
It's just the way the operation made me."

And you can tell  
from the state of my room  
that they let me out too soon  
and the pills that I ate  
came a couple years too late!  
And I've got some issues to work through  
there I go again!  
Pretending to be you—  
make-believing  
that I have a soul beneath the surface,  
trying to convince you:  
it was accidentally on purpose.

I am not so serious.  
This passion is a plagiarism.  
I might join your century,  
but only on a rare occasion.  
I was taken out  
before the labor pains set in and now  
behold the world's worst accident:  
I am the girl anachronism!

And you can tell  
by the red in my eyes  
and the bruises on my thighs  
and the knots in my hair  
and the bathtub full of flies:  
that I'm not right now at all.  
There I go again!  
Pretending that I'll fall—  
don't call the doctors!  
'Cause they've seen it all before.  
They'll say just let. Her. Crash. And. Burn. She'll learn.  
The attention just encourages her.

And you can tell  
from the full-body cast  
that you're sorry that you asked,  
though you did everything you could  
(like any decent person would)  
but I might be catching so don't touch:  
You'll start believing you're immune to gravity and stuff.  
Don't get me wet  
because the bandages will all come off!

And you can tell  
from the smoke at the stake  
that the current state is critical!  
Well it is the little things, for instance:  
in the time it takes to break it she can make up ten excuses:  
Please excuse her for the day, it's just the way the medication makes her.

I don't necessarily believe there is a cure for this  
so I might join your century, but only as a doubtful guest  
I was too precarious removed as a caesarian!  
Behold the world's worst accident  
I AM THE GIRL ANACHRONISM!"

She moved with the music, her limbs wild and her voice steady and strong, fluctuating with the music. She shrieked and she leapt across stage, coming close to the edge of the stage for most of the song. A devilish glint took hold in Isolde's red eyes, making the smiles on her face and the sounds she made almost demonic in their

The song over, Isolde took a deep breath as a silence fell over the Hall, broken by the sound of Hermione, Severus and Sirius applauding, dumb-struck, as the rest of the students and professors followed suit. The applause broke over her like a wave, making her bow in pure relief.

The crowd applauded again, louder this time, a few wolf whistles echoing over their enthusiastic clapping. "Thanks! I think I'm only going to do one more song, but I will need some volunteers, so—anyone interested?"

An overwhelming number of cheers erupted in the Hall, many of them from the younger-year boys. She ignored most of them, having pre-selecting her victims: James Potter, Lily Evans, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Bellatrix and Narcissa Black, Rabastan Lestrange and Regulus Black. Groans echoed through the Hall as they took their places onstage, Narcissa and Bella primping while the Slytherin boys flexed; the Marauders looked downright scared.

Isolde pulled them into a circle, murmuring words indecipherable to the crowd to her less-than-willing volunteers. They stood in a single file line across the stage, Isolde before them, nearest to the curious crowd of people. "Anyway, let's give 'em a hand, eh?" She led the clapping for a grimacing line of volunteers, laughing when the Slytherins appeared to do a synchronized group glare.

"My next song is called 'Night Reconnaissance,' and I do hope you like it. Box, play 'Night Reconnaissance.' Ten second delay, please."

The line behind her snapped to attention, phony smiles plastered on their faces as they waited for the song to begin. Isolde stayed before the line, but moved to the left of it, presenting it as she sang.

"Nothing is crueler than children who come from good homes  
God'll forgive them, I guess, but whose side are you on?  
Driving around my hometown, I remember it all—  
Dropping my lunchbox and Tampax all over the hall and they said . . ."

She continued singing, twirling down the line as each one pointed at her in time with the music and the insults she threw at herself.

"'You are a Socialist cokehead, we know from your clothes.  
You are a Satanist worshipper— oh, that's evil!  
You think you're a poet, a folksinger, posing, oh no!  
A volleyball player?! You've got to be kidding us all!'"

She was in the center of the line now, her arms over James Potter and Rabastan Lestrange's shoulders, bringing them closer to the edge of the stage in a twisted parody of the classic walk on the Yellow Brick Road in "The Wizard of Oz." Hermione snorted when she saw their embarrassed faces, though the Marauders seemed to be well on their way to enjoying themselves.

"So we hide from the guns on a night reconnaissance—  
steal flamingos and gnomes from the dark side of the lawn.

The line moved back once again as Isolde stepped out to play to the crowd. The line (of Slytherins) behind her looked mutinous, but there was obviously some sort of enchantment preventing them from rebelling against the performance. They had to be content with the scowls on most of the (Slytherin) faces and the fact that the classic back-up singer moves they were doing were spell-forced. James, Remus and Lily appeared to be enjoying themselves, getting melodramatic and hamming it up for the crowd as Peter just looked awkward.

"No one can stop us; the script is a work of genius!  
No one has bought the rights yet but we're not giving up.  
Every unwanted lawn jockey fits in the script," she noted, pointing to herself, pouting her lips.  
"Directed by Spielberg and starring the masochist club!"

Isolde presented the line again as she sang, which was apparently their cue to arc around her as she tap danced, the hands of her coerced back-up fanning out around her as she did so. She made certain to point out the two Black sisters, laying her hands on their shoulders and sticking her head between theirs as she danced lightly around them.

"Marion looked like hell  
Stuck in that ridiculous shell!"

Reforming the line again, she put her arms around them, stepping forward with the line as they began working into an easy pose around her, finally lifting their voices in rising harmony.

"Give us some light and God's pure love;  
We know what you've been dreaming of.  
Give us some light and God's pure love;  
We know what you've been dreaming of.  
Give us some light and God's pure love;  
We're taking you to Hollywood!"

Their hands lifted around her, doing what Hermione knew as "spirit fingers," leaving Severus and Sirius in stitches when she mentioned it. Isolde pushed through the waving fingers, rubbing her eyes and swooning into Remus's arms.

"Hollywood!"

He set her back up once he took his place at the edge of the line, giving her a chance to wave her wand across the line to give them a matching sequined jazz costume as they danced. Isolde continued to play to the crowd, building her energy off the laughter.

"And we hide from the guns on a night reconnaissance—  
steal flamingos and gnomes from the dark side of the lawn."

She began dancing her way to the end of the line tapping Remus with her wand and dressing him as an archetypal punk. Isolde took his hand as he spun her into Peter. She tapped him too, dressing him as a cult member. Rabastan was dressed as a grungy looking poet and Lily was put into an athletic uniform with two casts, one on each wrist.

"One is a socialist cokehead they dressed in my clothes.  
One is a Satanist worshipper, who is evil.  
One is a poet who starts up a band of his own.  
One is a volleyball player with both her wrists broke!"

Isolde flourished her wand, replacing the jazz costumes she had magicked them into, and placing her arms over Lily and Bellatrix's shoulders, she tapped the line back up to the edge of the stage, using a basic tap move to bring them forward.

"And we hide from the guns on a night reconnaissance—  
steal flamingos and gnomes from the dark side of the lawn!"

Then, to add insult to injury, the entire group of "volunteers" joined her in a growing harmony and a perfectly synchronized kick-line.

"And we give them good homes; give them love they've never known—in the loft, in the lawn, in the town where I was born;  
in the loft, in the barn, in the town where I was born."

The line took a group bow before Isolde took hers, all of them receiving ecstatic cheers for their efforts. Isolde flicked her wand at each of them to restore them to their costumes, ushering them offstage with applause, saying, "Give them a big hand, kids! That was a great performance!"

Professor Dumbledore caught her eye, the twinkle in it encouraging her. The students rallied as she made to leave the stage, calling her name and whistling for her to play again. Isolde silently asked the question as Professor Dumbledore nodded, approaching the stage to save her from an encore in this surprise performance.

"Let's welcome Professor Dumbledore back to the stage," she cried enthusiastically, clapping the old man back up before abdicating her place in the spotlight to tackle-hug Helene for the best night of her life before giving Sirius the biggest kiss she could imagine, smiling as he picked her up and twirled her around; Helene and Severus were watching with fond smiles, their hands held between them.

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"How did you do that, Zelda? What kind of charm did you use?" Hermione asked as her friend was gently placed back on her feet.

"Nothing much, really. It was a mild Compulsion Charm combined with a little bit of a Talent Charm. Anything I thought, they did. Gods, do I miss the power."

Sirius barked out a laugh, true to his Animagus form and new pet name, before pressing a kiss on her temple and asking her to dance.

* * *

The students poured into the Entrance Hall once the Ball ended at two in the morning, giddy smiles and sleepy eyes on each face. Young lovers parted with soft kisses as clasping hands separated as each gender and House went their separate ways.

Sirius and Isolde parted at the top of the stairs. He kissed her forehead once, breathing a soft, "Good night," as he did so before moving to her lips, kissing them too. She turned to leave, squeezing his hand as she did so, but he took her hand in his, smiling lightly as he kissed it, lingering just a moment too long for it to be innocent.

The two nearly floated back to their respective dormitories, neither truly undressing before falling asleep, reliving the night as they dreamed together, searing each kiss into their memories and each soft word into their ears and each touch burning into their flesh.

* * *

Hermione and Severus refused to part that night, Severus leading her into his room. It was dominated by a double four-poster bed with black hangings and white bedclothes though the wall had a few sparse bookshelves and a desk and chair. Severus excused himself into the closet to change as Hermione scanned the few titles there, finding mainly Dark Arts books and Potions books for her trouble.

She pulled a dog-eared copy of a children's book out, her fingers trailing over the pages and illustrations, surprised that none of them moved. It was an Arthurian legend, she realized, her eyes scanning over the words on the yellowed pages. A throat cleared behind her as Severus sheepishly handed her a long button-down shirt. He wore a dingy undershirt and black shorts himself, looking the slightest bit embarrassed at her seeing him like this.

Hermione pressed a quick kiss to his lips before turning to let him unzip the back of her dress. She went into the closet, letting the dress slump to the floor as she pulled on the shirt, lengthening it a bit and transfiguring her mask into a tight pair of sleep shorts. She quickly fumbled in the dark to remove the charm on her hair before letting the curls fall wild down her back, barely tamed by a bit of determined gel Isolde had used on her that afternoon. Once she had returned her hair to its original color, she re-emerged from the closet, cooing softly at the sight of Severus in bed and reading the book she had picked out.

Severus looked up at her and blinked a moment before turning down the bed for her, his arms open. She took a running start before leaping in with him, cuddling into his chest when she landed. He smoothed her hair as she rested her head over his heart, closing her eyes and humming contentedly when she heard it beat against his chest.

"Would you like me to read to you?" he asked quietly, snuffling his nose into her hair, the book held precariously in one hand. Once he felt her nod, he opened it to his favorite tale, reading about the valiant knight and his lady fair until he heard her breath fall against him in steady puffs before kissing the top of her head and snuggling into the blankets, the room falling into darkness as sleep overtook him.

* * *

Hah! The songs mentioned are: "Afternoon Delight" by Starland Vocal Band, "You Light Up My Life" by Debbie Boone, "Muskrat Love" by Captain and Tennile, "Girl Anachronism" by Dresden Dolls and "Night Reconaissance" by Dresden Dolls.


	14. Chapter 14

Here you go! Sorry for it being so long, but life is far too chaotic. Chapter Fifteen is currently being molded.

* * *

Blackbird Fly

_**Fourteen**_

They should have realized that life would be different in the weeks after the Ball.

Hermione and Severus were nearly inseparable, spending days and nights together; it wasn't about sex or shagging not that they hadn't gotten close more than a few times, though Severus always stopped it, unwilling to push her too far) or randy teenage hormones really, just about the time they spent together. Yes, Hermione went off to do stupid, crazy things with Isolde, but Severus was always on her mind. And Severus still had his secret dilemma, but he always wondered what 'Lene would say. He would never tell her, of course—the memory of Lily's defection fresh in his mind—but he could always wonder.

Bellatrix approached him again, three and a half weeks after the Ball, flanked by Rabastan, Narcissa and Regulus, a simpering smile on her face. Severus was on his guard when he saw it; everyone knew that Bellatrix Black never smiled when she could avoid it.

"Severus, I still can't believe the nerve of those Gryffindors at the Ball. Join us—"

He cut her off firmly, a sneer on his face and his hand pushing her away. "Save it for someone who will fall for it, Bella. Don't waste my time with sentimental nonsense like that."

She sneered; and resembled for a moment the Bellatrix she would become after years of Azkaban would destroy her from the outside in. "Fine, _Snivellus_. Our Lord is anxious; he wishes to meet with you over the holiday. Be there. Three days after Boxing Day. He will send someone to Hogsmeade for a meeting."

Severus nodded curtly, his eyes never leaving hers. He just didn't trust her, watching her every move as she sauntered away, leaving Regulus and Rabastan behind as Narcissa shadowed her steps. Regulus stepped forward first.

"You're still hanging around with those Mudbloods, Snape. Fermier, now that's understandable; she has power and intelligence, though her bloodline is, lamentably, untraceable. Our Lord is considering approaching her."

"Chase, however," Rabastan began, stepping in, "is volatile. Her loyalty is wavering between us and them. Her little stunt at the Ball will cost her, Severus, believe me and though there is incredible power and darkness in her, we question if it is enough. While the Dark Lord has shown an interest in the ring she has, especially after the episode in the Great Hall, he is uncertain of her potential in our . . . organization and wonders of her use to us."

"You know what happens to those who do not follow," Regulus reminded, unconsciously flexing his muscles beneath his robes and brandishing his wand.

Severus was divided now. What should he say?

What could he say?

"There is great potential in Isolde Chase. She is manipulative and a skilled actress. You could use her for that alone, aside from her spell-work. Although, I can see your point: she is betraying her House by being with Black. In her defense, she has never been given a reason to show any sort of House loyalty." He felt sick as he said it, watching their faces for any trace of suspicion, knowing that sincerity, or the appearance of it, was key.

"No excuse," Rabastan said firmly, his brow set. "Chase is walking a knife's edge."

"'Sides," Regulus chimed in, "She's hanging around with a blood-traitor."

"A blood-traitor who just happens to be your brother," Severus reminded him coolly.

"No blood of mine." He spat out the words, as if afraid his tongue had been tainted by the mention of the blood traitor in his family.

"Would you two actually say what you wish to say so that life can continue?" Severus drawled, crossing his arms and looming over the boys. His height, it seemed, was finally an advantage for him.

"Watch your back," Regulus warned.

"Know where your loyalties lie and choose your company accordingly," Rabastan added.

Severus raised an eyebrow to challenge them before waving them off and turning his back, a clear dismissal.

What would this behavior cost him?

* * *

Hermione sidled up to her boyfriend (the word simply didn't suit him; she would have to find another), taking his hand and walking beside him. Severus gave her an absent-minded kiss as he continued down the hallway, barely aware she was there.

"Severus," she tried, hoping to snap him out of it. When it didn't work, she tried it again louder. The portraits around them, however, had noticed her situation, choosing to assist her by calling his name in deafening unison.

He didn't jump or flinch (not that she had expected him to), though she noted with amusement that the grip on her hand grew tighter for a moment after the portraits called him. Hermione mouthed her gratitude to Sir Cadogan, the portraits' ring leader on this floor before pulling Severus into the nearest alcove when no one was looking. Thankfully (and they had had this problem more than once in the preceding weeks), it was blissfully empty; she had been nervous, as Sirius and Isolde had Transfiguration at the same time, and alcoves on this floor were in high demand.

"Severus Snape, you tell me what's going on," Hermione demanded, cradling his face between warm hands.

He sighed, shaking and hanging his head, strands of inky hair falling out of place as he did so. His shoulders shook, almost as though he was holding back tears, but none fell. One hand rose to cover his face before he rested it on her cheek, nuzzling into her shoulder. "I just don't know what to do. You haven't been a Slytherin long enough to really understand; Merlin, it's all so political. I've got to take care of you and Zelda, but I don't know if I can."

"Hush," she soothed, running her hands through his hair and down his back. "I'll take care of you and me. Zelda has Sirius to take care of her now; you don't need to burden yourself with all that. I don't blame you for anything. None of this is something you asked for."

Hermione felt terrible; she had nearly asked him to abandon one of her best friends to a near-stranger, but it was what needed to be said. "Severus, you take the world on your shoulders so willingly. Let it down. Put something down or you'll be crushed."

"I can't." He whispered it so quietly, so brokenly that it tore her heart in two, and she plunged into his arms, sobbing. Severus kissed the top of her head, distressed and hurting for both of them. He brought his arms around her, patting her back and murmuring into her hair. He leaned against the wall as she clutched his robes, and he rocked her gently, just letting her vent and cope.

Severus could be there for her, yes, but he could never know why she was crying—what she missed.

Hermione missed Mrs. Weasley and her busy-body, motherly ways. The Weasleys were her second family; she was as much their daughter as Ginny was.

Hermione missed her parents; they were still in school now.

Hermione missed her true House and her true self—the one that didn't have to lie at every turn.

Hermione missed her Harry and her Ron. If platonic soul-mates existed, they were hers and it terrified her to think that she could only be an adult to them now; should she never be able to return to her present, she wouldn't see them for years and years, and even then she'd be another adult who wouldn't care about them. It only got her to wondering what would happen to her, as she hadn't run into herself in the future, and she was almost certain that she was never meant to be in the past.

Her sobs stopped for a moment, giving her enough time to take a breath. Hermione looked up at Severus, searching for something in the inscrutable eyes she hadn't noticed before she had come to the past. He met her gaze before slowly leaning down to her, kissing the join between her neck and shoulder; his eyelashes fluttered against her clammy skin as he snuggled into her soft body.

They both missed Transfiguration that day, drawing warmth and heart from one another in the cold world which Severus had become accustomed to and to which Hermione didn't belong.

* * *

Isolde and Sirius grew closer too, though their relationship was marred by the time they had to divide between their classes, their respective friends, one another's friends (as they both wished for the other to be a friend to their friends) and the time they wished to devote to one another as a couple. It was as though they, as a pair, were a child split between parents in joint custody when it would just be easier for everyone to be able to be together.

It wasn't a matter of the Marauders disliking Isolde (the boys had come around after her humiliation of the Slytherins at the Ball, though Lily was still a bit cold) or Hermione and Severus being unwilling to tolerate Sirius's presence (once Sirius had come clean, Severus watched the rat more carefully, nearly ignoring Sirius). They were happy together, and their friends could see that much—once the initial surprise had worn off, anyway.

True to his word, Sirius had begun to teach Isolde the ways and philosophy of an Animagus, taking her out to the grounds near the Forbidden Forest each evening with few exceptions for the full moon. He hadn't told her not to meet him after dinner that first night, leaving her to wander the grounds in solitude and near-desolation, sure that the whole thing had been a trick; and that she was about to learn the punch-line.

* * *

_The autumn wind blew the hood off her face, her coppery hair flying behind her as she searched the grounds from her perch in the tree, looking for her Puppy. They ate dinner at their respective House tables, and he'd had a detention to serve before then with Madame Pince for daring to bring food near one of her precious library books._

_The full moon hit her face, transfiguring it with a pearlescent sheen and making her eyes twinkle a dusky rose in the night. Isolde was perched at the tip-top of the tree, standing on the highest branch that could bear her weight. Her cloak blew and twisted in the wind like the moonlit hair streaking and tangling behind her. From the distance Sirius was watching, she was nothing more than a familiar silhouette casting black shadows on the silvery moon, her identity unknown to him._

_To Moony, the poor, uncontrollable wolf, she looked like a meal. He set off toward her tree at a run, malice in his mind, head-butting it with all his might. In her surprise—for she had been moon and star-gazing— Isolde fell from the top of the tree, limp as a rag doll, landing with a soft crack on the mossy rock below. Small scratches from gnarled branches marked her face and body, the largest slashing her cheek and pooling blood on her supine body._

_Moony licked his chops, poised to spring for the tasty meal that was to come; and he tempted himself by sniffing a little at her wounds until Sirius leapt to her body, hunching over it and growling until a stag came to pull the werewolf back into the forest where he belonged for now._

_Sirius nudged at her broken face, licking the bleeding cheek and butting his head into her hand in vain. He wished he could change back, but Moony's barking and growling stopped him from doing anything so foolhardy. He had to be content to wait until it was safe to do, sitting by her body, head hung, howling mournfully to the moon. Nearly certain she was dead, he cried and whined by Isolde until a golden glow embraced her, making her breath come in short gasps and her eyes flutter. He nudged her cheek as she shimmered, color returning to her lips and cheeks._

_She wouldn't wake until the next morning in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey had pushed the hospital beds she and Sirius occupied together in a near-futile attempt to force him into sleep. He had held her hand across the gap in the beds before they had been pushed together, and he held her again, stroking her hair and running his fingers down the bandaged gash on her cheek. Sirius had been assured that it wouldn't scar, but he didn't care. He didn't care as long as warm breath kept falling against his chest and as long as she held onto to him in her sleep._

_She woke once classes had ended, having missed earlier visits from Severus, Hermione and an inconsolable Remus. Her face was buried in a cotton t-shirt and she looked up at him, a relieved smile working its way onto his face. Isolde loved that grin, and she surged up and kissed him, delighted to feel him grip her so tightly against him. Once she had pulled back and nestled her head into the crook of his shoulder, Sirius pulling the blankets around her and tucking them in, he kissed the top of her head, sighing as he did so._

_Just as his heartbeat was lulling her into sleep, she heard him say, as if to himself, "Darling, is this love?"

* * *

_

Oh, yes. He loved her.

She loved him.

There was just no way in hell they would say anything to each other until they were sure.

Either way, Remus's secret was revealed to Isolde, who had sworn an Oath to, if she was able, take to her animal form and protect Remus and those he could harm from Moony, and—if it came to it— protect him from himself. Now, all the Marauders, with the exception of Lily, took active roles in her tutoring, whether it was as an active teacher as Sirius and James did, scouting and standing look-out as Peter did, or by providing supervision and relief for the oft-exhausted pupil, as did Lily and Remus.

The first step in her training with the Marauders was the making of the potion, which was handled by herself, Sirius and Lily; they were the best brewers in the bunch, though Sirius had little inclination towards essay writing and drudgery work. It was a difficult potion to create and Severus would have taken great glee in pointing out that it was, in fact, a potion which bordered on the edge of the Dark Arts.

The potion was created in the month they had between full moons, and once the final ingredient—a drop of Isolde's blood from a cut made with an obsidian dagger—had been added, the Marauders and Lily had gathered around her and the cauldron in the circle.

"You may not have a form," James warned.

Peter chimed in next, saying, "Yeah, you could just not be—" he screwed up his face, thinking of the words—"'attuned to your animal instincts,' according to the book we read."

"It could change," Lily said gently, laying a hand on Peter's shoulder, "and it may not. You could be an Animagus later, if not now. It isn't a gift given to everybody." She looked a bit down when she told Isolde this, as though that had been the case with her.

"You might not like your form either. I didn't—I'm a rat, see—but it turned out to be a handy thing." Peter shifted a bit awkwardly when he said this, and Isolde wondered what he was hiding.

Sirius grasped her shoulders, turning her to him and kissing her once, softly, on the lips. "It'll tell you who you really are inside, Philomel. Whatever it is, it's perfect for you. It's you, and you'll be beautiful. I know it." He kissed her again before Remus laid a cool hand on her shoulder.

She turned to him, wondering if he would say something to her; he hadn't spoken to her since the last moon. "Remus," she said quietly, hoping he would respond.

"Thank you," he whispered, his eyes glassy and welling up. His shoulders hitched a little, but he calmed himself, blinking back whatever tears and emotions had been threatening.

Isolde hugged him tight before reassuring him that he was worth it, that she was willing. Truth be told, he was her favorite. James was growing on her a little at a time, though Lily was still cold around her. She hadn't really gotten to know Peter well at all, though she wondered if that was such a bad thing. Remus was just—Remus. He was so endearing, reminding her of a stray dog or cat who had found a home, but still couldn't trust its security. Remus was like a baby brother to her, really.

Isolde turned back to the still-steaming cauldron before sticking the tip of her wand in the solution, focusing on the Animagus Charm in her mind; the spell was non-verbal. She waited until the potion changed color to a black-flecked gold before scooping the potion into her cupped hands and drinking it quickly, the taste of arid heat and dried roots burning the back of her throat.

Her body grew attuned to the world around her; her senses sharpened, gasps echoing in her sensitive ears. The earth shifted beneath her feet, her hands and feet flexing, claws protruding from each appendage. A tail—she had a tail! It was long; she flicked it as far as she could, and it reached the periphery of her vision. It was fuzzy and long and Isolde wished she could see more of it, finally understanding why dogs chase their tails. Wait—was that it? Her form was a dog?

Before she realized it, Peter, James and Sirius shifted into their own forms, Sirius bounding over to her and nuzzling her with his furry black head. Isolde twitched her ears before smiling and laughing as best she could, reveling in the sound of her bark. Sirius barked out his own laugh before the two of them collapsed into a canine pile as the rest of the Marauders smiled or celebrated in their own animal way. (Peter was squeaking excitedly and chasing his rat tail while James stamped his hooves and licked Lily's cheek.)

Isolde trotted to the mirror nearby, closing her eyes until she was sure she was in front of it before sitting and opening her eyes. Her form was that of a black-backed jackal; her body, long and lithe, was a sandy gold, her back crested with silver-speckled black. Her tail was like that of a fox's, bushy and soft, but a jet black. Her ears were long and pointed, twitching as they felt necessary. Isolde opened her mouth to discover her teeth, pleased to find them a sparkling, pointed white.

Now all she had to do was change back. She remembered everything about her human body and her human mind and her human feelings, anchoring herself to the memories she pulled up from the wild mind she currently occupied. While it was true that Isolde was in control of the jackal, it was difficult to make the switch effortlessly in the beginning, as the animal instincts would have to be ignored to become human in both body and mind. St. Mungo's was filled with unlucky souls who had their human mind in the animal's body or vice versa; some never managed the transformation back at all, their human intelligence atrophying into pure instinct.

Once Isolde was back to herself, Sirius changed back to himself as well, pulling her to him and lifting her into his arms, knowing how exhausted she would be after her first transformation, especially when she had maintained the change for as long as she had. This was the other part of Animagus training: learning to do the transformation in a way that would be magically efficient.

Isolde closed her eyes once she was in Sirius's arms, smiling and humming contentedly when he lowered his forehead to hers for a moment. She wrapped her arms around his neck, yawning as she did so. He carried her to the Slytherin dormitory under James' invisibility cloak, waiting for a hapless second-year to walk into the common room before following the hallway where the girls' dormitories were, sneaking along the tunnel until he had reached her room.

Sirius kicked the door open softly, walking into the room quickly and closing the door non-verbally, as though a phantom draft had blown impossibly into the Slytherin dungeons. He shrugged off the hood of the cloak, seemingly bodiless now, before climbing the ladder to place her in the loft bed she had. Yawning and aware that it was a later Friday night than normal, he tossed the cloak over the edge, covering the two of them with blankets from her bed. Sirius spooned Isolde into him, his hands resting over her belly before murmuring the charm to turn out the lights. He was asleep before he knew it.

* * *

The next morning, after a few slow kisses, Isolde and Sirius left the dormitory, Sirius under James's cloak. They left early enough so that they hoped the common room would be empty (or nearly), leaving them time to make an easy escape.

They did not, however, count on one of the major changes in their lives since the Masquerade.

After her performances, Isolde had fans.

A whole lot of fans.

A whole lot of obsessive fans.

Once the Ball had ended, classes resumed to hallways crowded with mediocre guitar-playing songwriters clogging the school. They dressed the same way, their nails blacked the way Isolde liked them and their posture defiant. The fan girls were moody too, many of them becoming known for cutting classes when they had never missed one before.

Her mail was a veritable avalanche of amateur songs and cheap lyrics about clichéd topics; if Isolde saw one more song about how a girl fell out of love with fairy tales once her heart was broken, she would scream. Sirius even partook in the fun, sending her a Howler one day to tell her how amazing she was, much to the amusement of the professors. Isolde, however, sank lower in her seat as the Howler read itself. Even Severus blushed when Sirius's Howler sang one of the love songs he had bellowed out at Halloween.

The fan girls (and younger-year boys) had even created paparazzi, ready and waiting to catch her at her worst; it was even better to snap a picture while she was with Sirius, especially if they were snogging. She simply couldn't go anywhere alone, developing a habit of wearing aviator sunglasses and tucking her hair into a cap while she was outside. Sirius was also well-known for using Remus and James' power as prefect and Head Boy, respectively, to confiscate pin-up-esque pictures of Isolde wherever they were found, not that he ever told her that he kept them.

Maybe Isolde was a little reckless in taking Sirius out of the dorm room so early.

Maybe Sirius should have held the hem of the Invisibility Cloak higher, just in case.

Maybe Isolde's crazy, young fans should have gotten lives.

No, actually. They definitely should have gotten lives.

You see, as Sirius and Isolde were making their escape, stealthy fourth years were sneaking along the dungeon corridor behind them, and one got too close. He stepped on the invisible hem of the cloak and off it came, revealing a bedraggled Sirius Black. He and Isolde scooped up the cloak, holding it between them before bolting up the hallway, the paparazzi scrambling behind them to catch up.

The door to the upstairs had never seemed so far away, but they made it, laughing as they held the cloak between them. Sirius quickly hustled Isolde out the door, slamming it behind him and waving his wand to lock it. Isolde chortled as she heard the fans behind them scrabbling at the doorknob. Sirius squeezed her tightly as she laughed, smiling as he kissed her cheek and took her hand to lead her up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.

Isolde wasn't completely comfortable there, but they could have a longer lie-in and the Gryffindors knew better than to cross a Marauder: anything could happen if you did it, as many cheeky first-years learned early on the year, having been hoist by their own petard by being unable to say anything other than hero-worship for the four. The flattery lasted a week, but the after-effects lasted forever.


	15. Chapter 15

Wow. I can't really ignore the fact that it's been a month (!) since my last update of this story, but I have been dealing with ridonculous school stuff and massive computer headaches. My laptop, which has everything from this story and others stored on it, completely burnt out and is now in Louisville awaiting the parts it needs for repair and I probably won't see it again for at least another week (sob!). Either way, I may have lost** everything** I had stored on there, including all of the chapters that I had pre-written for later on in the story. My next update will probably come with the return of my laptop, as writing on the home computer sucks and is too public for my taste. I know where the story is going, not that the ending is anywhere in sight, but mark my words, this story will be completed.

There is also some smut in this chapter and it was my first time writing it, so be gentle, though reviews, as always, are appreciated.

* * *

Blackbird Fly

_**Fifteen**_

Sirius dragged Isolde into the second floor girls' bathroom three days later, the two of them having just escaped the most frightening Transfiguration class of their lives . . .

* * *

_Professor McGonagall was nowhere to be seen. A pretty little tabby cat was sitting on her desk, still as a statue. Surprisingly enough, no one had made the connection until Helene gasped, "She's an Animagus!"_

_Sirius and Isolde had only just arrived at that point, rushing to their table as the bell rang, Isolde smoothing her hair. She smiled at Sirius as he took her hand under the desk before her eyes rested on the cat. _

_Yelping, she squeezed his hand tightly, panic in her eyes. Confused he looked around the room, closing his eyes and sighing when he saw Professor McGonagall's cat form._

_"Sirius, something's happening. I can't control it," Isolde murmured rapidly, her eyes darting around the room._

_Professor McGonagall leapt off the desk, transforming back into her usual self as she did so. She approached the table Sirius and Isolde shared, laying a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Miss Chase, is everything all right?"_

_Severus and Helene noticed the trouble, gathering around their friend, who was pale and seemed dizzy. "Zelda" Severus said tentatively, hugging her gently from her side, "what's wrong?"_

_"I just—I think I need some air!" She covered her mouth with both hands, running out of the room, Sirius hot on her heels._

_The entire room went silent as Professor McGonagall went to her desk and picked up the outline so that she could begin teaching, but even she was startled to hear barking and howling coming from outside the door.

* * *

_

"It's perfectly normal—I should have told you before, though." Sirius ran a hand through his hair as Isolde shivered and sighed. "It takes time to master full control of your Animagus self. Those nicknames we have—Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs—they're not us, they're the Animagus form we have, or in Moony's case, the wolf. Come to think of it, we haven't named yours yet, and we should by tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Your first full moon's tonight, Philomel. We have Moony-sitting duty for the next few days."

* * *

Hermione and Severus left Transfiguration, both anxious to begin learning to become Animagi in some special lessons that had been arranged with Professor McGonagall. They were worried about Isolde, especially after her episode in Transfiguration. Knowing her as well as they did, they headed down to the Slytherin dormitories, stopping off for a quick snog every couple of floors, mostly when Filch was around searching for errant students who were out of class.

They made it with only one or two near-slips, using a trick Hermione had learned from her mother. Mrs. Granger had always believed that it didn't matter where you were and whether you were supposed to be there or not, as long as you looked busy and purposeful in whatever it was you were doing. Hermione had used it many a night when she wanted to get some real light reading done; she would hide a book in something that was so utterly dull that no one would question her about it, leaving her in peace.

Severus knocked on Isolde's door sharply, surprised when it was answered by a tousle-haired, yawning Sirius Black.

"'Lo," he mumbled. "Zelda's sleeping."

"Can we see her?" Hermione asked, her brown eyes wide and worried.

"She's tired," Sirius lied, "really, she's exhausted and she's got a long night ahead of her."

"So, we'll see her tomorrow, then?" Severus asked; he kept the suspicion in his mind out of his voice thanks to years of being in Slytherin House. Isolde's words from the night they had found Helene rang in his head: _"There's always more than what you know."_

_\_That was certainly true of Helene; he remembered her blatant lies and her half-truths that night of the Ball. Severus hadn't been able to confront her about them since then, but he remembered.

It was true of the Slytherins who called themselves "Death Eaters" and he had no way out of their corner, and no way to be sure that Helene would still love him if he was one of them. He was certain that the whole thing would be over soon, but certainly not to his benefit.

Now he had this to worry about, and if his guess was right, Isolde was in great danger.

* * *

His plan hatched, he waited in the Entrance Hall until just before sundown, watching with wide eyes as the Marauders and Isolde snuck out of the castle, heading for the Shrieking Shack.

Severus made to follow them as he drew his cloak around himself, but he was stopped by a soft hand on his shoulder. He turned to snarl at whoever it was, but he was stopped short.

"Professor Dumbledore," he stammered quietly. "I was just—"

The old man smiled kindly. "I know. You have nothing to worry about. She will be safe. Go on into dinner. I believe," he twinkled, "Miss Fermier is waiting for you."

"Yes, sir," the boy replied, sweeping into the Great Hall for a quick dinner. He would find another way out of the castle if he needed to; he had to make sure she was safe.

Meanwhile, he sat across from Helene, filling his plate sulkily.

"What happened, Sev?" she asked quietly, keeping the humor from her voice as she did so. It was nearly impossible to reconcile him with her professor sometimes.

"Nothing," he said petulantly, scowling as he took a bite of potato.

"There's no point in wasting your glare on food that tastes good, Severus."

He looked up sharply. "Right." He blushed and hung his head.

"You need to relax," she decided, smiling. "I'll meet you in your room when you're done eating, and be quick." She leaned across the table to give him a soft kiss before she left abruptly, her hair flying out behind her as she walked briskly.

Hermione went straight for the kitchens, pondering over the miraculous way that food continued to bring them together. The house elves were only too happy to help her (as she knew they would be—she hadn't begun a chapter of SPEW in the past) with her surprise for her pouting boyfriend.

Once she had procured what she needed food-wise, Hermione hustled down to Severus's room, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the Black sisters. She rested the bundle of food on his bed once she got there, raising her wand and pulling her sleeves up to her elbows.

She had some "foolish wand-waving" to do.

* * *

Reluctantly, Severus made his way down to the dungeons, wishing he could find out what was going on tonight with Isolde and the Marauders. He knew that it had something to do with the werewolf; he would never understand Isolde's fondness for him.

He opened the door to his room once he got there, stunned at the sight that met his eyes.

Candles lined the room as a fireplace blazed on the wall facing his bed. The bed curtains were tied back, revealing fresh black bed linens sprinkled with red rose petals. A small table waited there too, laden with fresh fruit and what smelled like chocolate fondue. Choked, he looked around the room for Helene, smiling as he saw her leave his closet. She was wearing his bathrobe, clutching the soft, black cloth around her body as she came towards him.

"Happy?"

"Very much so," Severus replied, drawing her to him for a long kiss. It left them both breathless. Once the kiss was broken, Hermione slipped around to his back, unfastening his cloak and hanging it up in his closet. He made himself comfortable as she did so, slipping off his shoes and socks and un-tucking his shirt, reclining on the bed once he was done.

Severus dipped one of the berries into the chocolate once Helene reappeared. She took her place on the bed next to him, closing her eyes as he held the berry to her lips. Helene ate it before she opened her eyes and snuggled closer to him.

"I love you," he murmured into her hair, kissing the top of her head softly.

Helene kissed the join of his shoulder and neck, her lips tracing up his neck and down his jaw. "I—love—you—too." Each word was punctuated with another kiss until she reached his lips.

Severus Banished the food wordlessly and wandlessly before they kissed again; he relished her soft sighs and whispered moans. Their lips meshed together and their tongues danced dangerously; Severus rolled carefully atop Helene, his hands cradling her face and his arousal pressed into hers. They both moaned when they felt that—the heat. Unable to control himself, he thrust into her, ignoring the cloth that covered them both.

Severus's hands ran down her body as hers began working at his shirt buttons.

"What are you wearing under there?" he whispered.

"Open it and find out," she murmured huskily, her voice mellow and dark.

He rose off of her, kneeling as she pulled herself up and rested against the headboard, smiling lazily. A flash of her creamy skin was visible here and there; she placed his hands over the knot of the robe's sash and met his eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes running reverently over her body.

"Please, Severus. Just do it," she whispered, raising his hand to kiss it softly.

"Are you a—"

She interrupted him with a soft, "No. Does that bother you?"

"Not really. I am, though."

"Am I what you want, Severus?"

Instead of answering, or perhaps as an answer, he opened the knot of the robe, uncovering her soft body. Her body was shapely and soft, her skin creamy and beautiful. He ran tender hands over the gentle curve of her stomach and the swells of her breasts.

"Can I see you?" she asked softly, her breath hitching as his hand splayed across her stomach.

He nodded mutely, allowing her to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way, watching her pause and trace her fingers over his chest, playing lightly with the sprinkle of black hair running from his belly button to the top of his pants. He sighed as her hands continued to explore, fumbling with his zipper and the button on his pants. Helene carefully brought his pants down, saving his tented boxers for last.

She cupped him gently as he wriggled out of his pants, his eyes fluttering closed. Satisfied, she ran her hands up and cloth-covered length to the waistband of his shorts, her fingers dipping beneath the elastic and into the wiry curls beneath. Just as carefully, just as tenderly, just as reverently as he had done with her robe, she tugged his shorts down and off, pausing when she was done to admire him.

"What is it?" he asked uneasily, thrown off by her careful scrutiny.

"Nothing," she sighed. "I love you, that's all."

"I'm glad." Severus scooped her up and placed her on his stomach, straddling him. Smiling lasciviously, he dipped two fingers into the curls between her legs. Helene shrieked as he found her clit, letting his finger run back and forth and around the slick nub. Her breasts bounced as she took her pleasure and he enjoyed watching the sight of her parted lips and dazed eyes. He raised himself up against the headboard, his mouth and other hand latching onto her breasts and driving her to madness.

Once Helene had regained her senses, she glared at him through narrow eyes as he took the fingers that had brought her to her peak to his lips, drawing them into his mouth slowly, savoring the musk and the taste. Hermione stopped glaring at that, her eyes widening instead. Playfully (though it was quite a shock to her to use the word in reference to him), he used her distraction to his advantage and flipped them over, pinning her to the bed and holding her arms over her head.

"What are you going to do, witch?"

Helene raised her hips against the aching and very neglected hardness, grinding into it until his grip loosened and his face contorted in pleasure; he wouldn't be able to take much more of this blessed torture. He thrust into her again, and she angled her hips, so that, with his next thrust, Severus slid into her. Hermione gasped at the feel of it—he was too big and, despite the loss of her virginity in desperate after-battle sex, she couldn't handle it.

"Stop, please. You're-you're too much. Give me a moment." She closed her eyes and rotated her hips, pulling him into her as he breathed deeply, burrowing his head in her neck. The silence was punctuated by heavy breathing until Hermione finally whispered, "Move, Severus. I can't take it anymore. I want you." She kissed his shoulder as he acquiesced, holding onto her body and kissing her face.

The symphony created by the slapping of skin and harsh breathing and soft groans and throaty moans was heaven to them; they had each other and that was what counted and it was enough. Severus's skin was so alive, so sensitive—he was sure he wouldn't last. He locked eyes with his Helene, searing into her body and soul, possessing her and crying out his dilemma to her in that one look until, just before he lost control, she brought one hand to the place they were joined until they reached the heights together, collapsing, sated and saturated with love, into soft slumber.

* * *

Rising the next morning was a surprising luxury. They had woken together before, but it had never been nude and they had never just let go and made love until they were dazed and awake.

Satisfied, Severus pressed a kiss to Helene's temple, whispering, "Hello. I love you." He marveled at how easy, how instinctive he seemed to become around her—like he just knew the right thing to say and do.

Hermione turned over, kissing him lightly and responding in kind, a soft smile on her face. She got up first, stretching as she did so, gloriously nude. He watched from the bed, his hands behind his head and a smirk on his face. Helene got into the clothes she had abandoned the day before in his closet as he watched before she left, blowing him a kiss and promising that she would meet him at breakfast.

Severus got dressed too, though he wanted to make a quick errand that he had long dreamed of making many a lonely night in his single room as visions of busty women and lingerie (on them, of course) danced through his head.

He was going to go to Madame Pomfrey to get the Potion.

* * *

Wizarding contraceptives are handled in a rather different fashion than those of Muggles. They are no easier to get, but they are far more effective and have the added benefit of coming in potion or charm form. The trouble with this was that such things were withheld from most students until the seventh year, at which time parents could send a note or (in some cases) a Howler requesting that their son or daughter either have access to the potion on a biweekly basis or the charm, renewed daily.

As much as he loved Helene, Severus was not yet ready for the "joys of fatherhood." Therefore, he was required to take the note he had forged in the beginning of the year, as he refused on point of pride to ask either parent for such a note, to Madam Pomfrey in order to get the male form of the contraceptive potion, though he made a mental reminder to scour the Restricted Section for the formula, as it was not included in the standard potions texts.

A weary looking Madam Pomfrey opened the door, though she brightened a little when she saw Severus, the two of them having developed something of a friendship over the last seven years as a result of the Marauders' teasing and harassing. "Severus, dear," she said briskly, hustling him into the ward, "how have you been? I hardly get to see you. Take a seat on the closest open bed and I'll be with you in a moment."

He obeyed, watching as she scurried out of sight to tend to what sounded like a very much in-pain Lupin—there had been a full moon the night previous. Severus pulled the curtain back from between his bed and the one next to it, surprised by the sight of a huge, shaggy black dog curled around the body of what appeared to be a jackal. The dog had a bandage around its ear and a hind leg while the jackal had heavy gauze covering its torso; the white of the bandage was spotting red as blood blossomed on the thick cloth. His gasp had apparently woken it, as it raised its sandy-gold head, blinking sleepily and yawning, displaying its prominent canines.

He took a step back at the sight of them, which caught the jackal's attention. It smiled (or at least that was what it looked like) and bowed its head, as if asking him for a nice scratch behind the ears. Tentatively, he obliged, reaching out his hand, surprised when the jackal butted at it with its head, smoothing its ears back.

"Hello, there, boy," he whispered, stroking its ear gently. The jackal whined once he'd finished speaking. Severus furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what the jackal was trying to say until it looked at him impatiently.

"Hello, there, girl?" he guessed, laughing a little, albeit nervously, when the jackal nodded. It closed its eyes again, wincing a little when it yawned again. "Poor thing," he murmured, scratching under her chin.

The jackal pulled her head back and licked his hand before laying her head against the black dog and closing her eyes. They flew open again when he said, "That's your mate?"

Surprised, she nodded against the shaggy fur, nuzzling it a little.

"Make sure he takes care of you, 'kay?"

She seemed to chuckle this time, more blood spilling onto the bandage wrapped around her abdomen. He reached a finger toward it, but Madam Pomfrey came bustling back, drawing the curtains with her wand.

"Now, what was it you wanted to see me about, Severus?"

Red-faced, he shoved the note at her, hanging his head as she read it with a mixture of pride and bemusement. She hurried back into her office to retrieve a bottle from the cabinet, slipping a bit of parchment into his hand with it.

"Now, just for you, dear, I've also given you the formula along with the dosing instructions and all that. I figured you'd go off searching for it anyway and, well, you ought to have the good stuff if that's what you're up to." The matron winked at him and gave him a brief hug before she returned to tending to her other patients. It warmed her heart to feel him accepting it properly.

"Madam Pomfrey," he said as he was putting the bottle and the accompanying parchments in his bag, "why are the jackal and the dog here?"

"Erm," Madam Pomfrey replied, her smile fading a little by the sound of her voice, "they're just in need of my help. Don't worry about them; they'll be back on their feet by the end of the day."

He grew even more worried when Isolde wasn't at breakfast. Nor in classes, lunch, classes again, dinner and the Common Room.

For the next three days.

It made Hermione wonder if Isolde Chase was the reason why fate had seen fit to send her back. The thought of it made her nauseous, especially when she considered the fact that she would have to return to a very unpredictable future.

It was logic, pure and simple.


	16. Chapter 16

Well, good news and bad news. Good news: my laptop is back and I have a ridiculous amount of free time. Bad news: I lost everything prewritten while my computer was gone. Thank God I have a ridiculous amount of free time.

* * *

Blackbird Fly

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

Isolde and Sirius were released from their beds in the Hospital Wing on the first day after the full moon; it had been three days that they had lost due to their midnight romping around the Hogwarts grounds. It was, surprisingly enough, the usual practice for Madam Pomfrey to hold all of the Marauders (and now Isolde) for the duration of the full moon, with the exception of the night. It was dangerous for the three, now four, Animagi to rejoin their classmates until they were well-rested and fully recovered from the extreme physical and mental exhaustion that they faced each month, while Remus was kept for an extra two or so days, just as a safety precaution, according to both Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey.

Their only real visitor during the long few days was Lily, as she was the only other Hogwarts student to know the secrets the Marauders kept, and she was happy to come and sit with each of them to chatter for however long she could stay, making sure to visit each bed when she came. The whole room just brightened when she was there, and she was more than happy to give each of them a hug or a kiss hello and good-bye, not that many of them could actually talk this time around.

Isolde had been the trouble this full moon, not that that had been a real surprise. The Jackal was unfamiliar to Moony, and he had taken a good few swipes at the poor girl before Sirius had convinced the wolf of her sincerity and friendship to the beast. Isolde had come out of the first night with great claw marks slashed across her side badly enough that she was unable to return to her true form until given permission from Madam Pomfrey, as the wounds would not be easily healed on a human, but rather an animal due to the same principle that protected Animagi witches and wizards from the bite of a werewolf while in their animal bodies. Either way, Isolde, and by extension, a very stubborn Sirius, remained jackal and great black dog during their three-day incarceration, Sirius remaining wrapped around Isolde's jackal-body as both of them slept softly, occasionally covered with a thick fleece blanket by Madam Pomfrey; the hospital matron had in her time befriended a few select students, Severus Snape and her Marauders among them.

"Let me change that bandage one last time before you go; you can take it off in a few days once it really stops itching, alright? Just don't, for heaven sakes, open them back up," Madam Pomfrey lectured, fetching some bandages to rewrap Isolde's torso. She hated what these poor kids were doing, but you had to admire them, oh yes. Werewolf wounds, though, are especially tricky to deal with due to the toxin in the bodily fluids of werewolves that cause the infection to be passed on. Isolde wasn't a wolf, but she would have an interesting scar story for Muggle bars, if she ever wound up in such places.

Isolde nodded slowly, gritting her teeth and inhaling sharply as the fabric touched the sensitive wounds. Madam Pomfrey applied the bandage with a firm Sticking Charm, reminding her to use an Impervious Charm to keep the bandage dry and clean. Isolde's arms were crossed, covering her breasts as the cloth wrapped around her a few times. Sirius entered, toweling off his hair as he came in from his shower, dressed in a large sweater and tailored trousers. He goggled at the possible sight of Isolde's breasts, as she had refused to become one of the trollops he had previously dated, not that he had gone "all the way" with every one of them of anything like that. Sirius Black might have dated whores, but he certainly wasn't one; he was just well-loved by the opposite sex.

Isolde rolled her eyes when his mouth began to repeatedly open and close. "Sirius, I know we're not dating because of your extraordinary verbal abilities, but do try to step it up. You'll catch flies and they don't taste very good." She paused for a moment, blushing slightly at the raised eyebrows. "My brother told me it was a chocolate covered raisin."

Sirius wrinkled his nose, deadpanning, "You like those?"

"Not anymore, no."

They both burst out laughing, causing Isolde's bandage to stain slightly as the muscles of her abdomen squeezed, making her to bleed again. She rested a hand over the wound, able to feel the indentations of the claw marks, long and deep and a sharp angry red against ashen skin. She pulled on a loose fitting black tank top and bra that she had brought to the Hospital Wing, though the top had been stretched out a bit on the recommendation of Madam Pomfrey. Sirius had been happy to donate a pair of boxer shorts with a huge black dog on them.

Sirius helped her off the bed, wrapping his arm gingerly around her waist to steady her. They each received a hug and an admonishment to come and see Madam Pomfrey, even if they just wanted to say hello, before leaving for the Slytherin Common Room, only two floors away; Gryffindor Tower was six floors away and neither of them were up to the trip.

* * *

Hermione and Severus were both seated on one of the armchairs near the fire when Isolde and Sirius trudged through the Common Room, making their way to her room despite the whispered insults that followed them. It was a sharp jab from Bellatrix Black that brought them to their senses, Hermione seated on Severus's lap as they watched the fire burn and talked aimlessly about the Potions essay they had been assigned.

"Aww, look," she simpered as Severus nursed his aching ribs, "the Mudblood and my favorite family Blood Traitor together again, off for another round of rutting . . . like animals. Isn't that sweet?"

The future Death Eaters were crowded around her, sparking the first round of quiet laughter which spread to the rest of the Slytherins there. Hermione turned up her nose at the lot of them, taking Severus's hand as he did the same, both of them leaving wordlessly as they followed their friends to Isolde's room, their silence broken by a fourth year, who had piped up with, "Four-some?" much to the amusement of those around.

* * *

Isolde and Sirius pulled down a pile of blankets and comforters and pillows from her bed, collapsing atop them and sighing with the relief of it all; heaven was the soft and familiar bed they had made for themselves. Sirius pulled her up to his side, and her head rested on his chest, his heartbeat lulling her to sleep as her fingers played lazily with the ends of his soft, dark hair. His eyes closed and warm breath feel against the top of her head evenly, making her smile as her eyes closed too, the world becoming foggy and dim and everything fading away except for the warm hand that held her close to him and the soft breath as his heart continued to beat.

That was how they were found, vulnerable and asleep, Sirius's hand covering the clawed side of Isolde's stomach and caressing the bare skin there; the white of the bandage caught Severus's eye and he started towards them before Hermione pulled him back, warning him with a look in her eye. "Come, love," she whispered, "It's almost time for dinner. We should go." His eyes remained on the couple for a moment before she placated him by promising that if they were not awake by the end of dinner and a bit of homework (she was Hermione Granger after all, no matter how absurdly intelligent her boyfriend was), then it would be alright to wake them.

He nodded sharply before picking up her hand and squeezing it, pressing a firm kiss on the palm before they left Sirius and Isolde to their sleep and one another.

* * *

Hermione watched Severus eat rapidly, glowering at his plate a little that she hadn't foreseen anything like this. He noticed the angry glare she gave his food and smirked.

"It's not my fault you didn't plan for this, 'Lene. Oh and, by the way," he added, his smirk becoming a full grin, "I have only to finish the conclusion of my Potions essay and we both know that you've had the thing done since last week."

"You have other work don't you?" she asked pointedly.

"Nope," he replied, stretching in his satisfaction. "I finished just about everything with the exception of a . . . erm . . . the Potion."

"You mean the one for . . ." she trailed off.

"Yes, that one. I went to Madam Pomfrey to get it the morning after we first made love and she provided me with the formula. I know we didn't have it that first time, but there are always ways around that kind of thing and I can help you deal with it and now we won't have to worry because I'll be brewing it myself." He forced himself to stop rambling, feeling the heat rise to his face as Helene choked back a giggle.

"Severus," she laughed, touched at the thought of it, "you never had to worry. I use the Charm every day. I have since my first time, just to be sure in case anything . . . happened."

"You have?"

"Well, let me put it this way: my first time came after a huge upheaval in my life (she wasn't lying) and we didn't use any protection. Thank Merlin that nothing came from that, but I learned to become more careful. I had to be, if I wanted to be sure. And no," she added, seeing the insecurity in his eyes, "he wasn't good at all."

"Tell me," he said, casting a _Muffliato _before she told the story.

* * *

_They'd only shared one kiss, brought on by her realizing how much he cared for the little things—the house elves—that mattered to her. It wasn't, Hermione realized later, a kiss borne of passion or lust or years' worth of sexual tension. It was a kiss of gratitude, of finally knowing that he understood her after all those years of friendship and fighting. She'd missed him when he had left her and Harry alone in the wilderness; they had been incomplete. They were meant to be a Trio, not a pair._

_Either way, it had led them to the edge of the Lake, never separating from one another. Then he was touching her and she was touching him as she lay on the dew soaked grass, smiling lazily at her once-friend and now-lover. She was nude and he was trying to make it good for them both, but she was his first, too, and he was unsure. He kneaded the flesh of her body with unforgiving hands, causing her to cry out of pain, though he misinterpreted them for pleasure and lust. _

_Then he entered her, ripping away her maidenhood and just thrusting over her as she raised her hips, trying to feel something—anything. She wanted the things that she had heard of from Ginny and Lavender and Parvati._

_Ron Weasley shouldn't have been her first.

* * *

_

"I'm sorry," Severus said. He felt like he shouldn't have pried into her life, like there was something secret and uncertain about it. He consoled himself with the knowledge that she hadn't lied to him.

"We weren't meant to be. And you have nothing to apologize for, you know. I would have asked too," she said, laying her head on his shoulder.

"It should have been you."

He smiled at that, especially when she tilted his head down to meet hers for the softest kiss they had ever shared.

Isolde and Sirius were still asleep when Hermione and Severus returned to Isolde's dormitory, Sirius snoring lightly as Isolde clutched him in her sleep, tense and curled and, from what Severus could tell, in pain. He went to shake her awake, nudging her gently and whispering her name until her dazed, sleepy-heavy eyes opened. She leaned up to hug him, her eyes moist from the pain. Severus laid a hand on her bandage, inspecting the rusty blood that stained it.

"What happened?" It was quiet but firm and Hermione understood why Professor Snape remained quiet when he was most upset. It put his voice at its lowest timbre, its silkiest and its richest. It as a weapon and he knew it.

"Give me a moment," she said wearily, waking Sirius with a whisper, her left arm wrapped around her body. Sirius woke quickly, drawing his wand and waving it lightly to hide their rapid conversation from prying ears. Sirius and Isolde seemed to have reached an accord and the enchantment dropped as suddenly as it went up.

"Before I—we say anything, you'll both need to swear that you will say nothing. A Wand Oath, if you don't mind." He looked fierce, like the passionate man Hermione had known before everything else had happened. She remembered one day that she had left Grimmuald Place in her fifth year to head into Muggle London for a quick shopping trip. Hermione had no recollection of what she had bought or if she had even bought anything, but she remembered Sirius coming along with her, a happy Snuffles by her side.

There had been one detour that he had been rather insistent on making.

* * *

_"Snuffles!" Hermione called, shouting to the black dog that was currently bounding its way into a reasonably posh London cemetery, his eyes bright though his tail refused to wag. _

_Sirius looked back at her and whined, cocking his head in the direction of the cemetery and looking entreatingly at Hermione. She simply couldn't resist; when it came to Sirius Black, what woman could, even if she was only a scrawny not-quite-sixteen-year-old. _

_He loped through the headstones and various trees and benches and memorials until he came to a black granite memorial hidden beneath a flowering tree, alone and decrepit in the corner of the graveyard. It was like nothing she had ever seen before: a black angel seated cross-legged atop the large memorial, head hung and wings broken and tattered and downcast—a fallen angel._

_Hermione knelt to brush the dust and leaves away from the silvery inscriptions, reading:_

_"She is asleep._

_Though her mettle was sorely tried,_

_She lived, and when she lost her angels, died._

_It happened calmly, on its own,_

_The way night comes when day is done."_

_There were no dates, no name to identify the soul that lay beneath the Black Angel. It was eerie and yet peaceful in a macabre sort of way, like a lullaby that played during a killer's nightmare. Sirius ran and snatched up a few of the dandelions dotting the grass on one of the nearby hills until a small pile of the yellow weeds had amassed. _

_Once his flowers had been carefully laid, he circled and laid down facing the stone as Hermione watched. Sirius whimpered quietly, covering his eyes with a paw and crying softly; it made her feel like an intruder, so she gave him his privacy, turning her attention to a few of the other headstones as her mind contemplated who Sirius was crying for._

_There was a young woman in the cemetery with them now, her coppery hair fluttering beneath a scarf. Her dress was black like the scarf, and sunglasses hid her eyes; her pale hands held a wreath, elegant and simple. She placed it in front of a nearby headstone that Hermione and Sirius had passed for a married couple who had died in the late seventies. The woman in black ran her fingers over the lettering reverently before moving on, approaching the Black Angel with trepidation._

_"Don't worry," Hermione said dumbly, "he's very friendly and well-trained."_

_The woman said nothing, merely turning her head and looking at her, the red painted lips forming an "o" of surprise. She recovered herself after a moment. "I'm sure. His former owner?" she asked, indicating Sirius._

_"I-I'm not sure. He wanted to come in here; I don't know why."_

_The woman knelt carefully and scratched him behind the ears as Sirius ignored her. "I had a dog like this one when I was a girl. I loved him like he was my family. I called him 'Puppy.'"_

_Sirius's ears pricked as the woman stood carefully, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress. Hermione couldn't resist asking, "Do you know who this is?"_

_"This angel has quite a history, you know. She protects the memory of a girl who killed herself after a Great War came. Her will said that she didn' t want anything to remember her by—memorials are for the living, you know—so they never put her name or anything on there. Never found her body either; they just got the memorial. This poor girl," she added, stroking the angel's wings, "is rather notorious, you know. A few vandals tried to destroy her a few years ago; they all died in a car crash on the ride here. They also say that you will be driven to madness if you look in her eyes."_

_"How odd," Hermione whispered thoughtfully to herself._

_The woman said her good-byes and gave Sirius, who was now at attention and watching the woman carefully, another scratch behind the ears before walking off, lighting a cigarette as she left.

* * *

_

Hermione's brow furrowed; she hadn't noticed the three pairs of eyes—one a startling red, one an intense grey, and the last, pure black—on her, watching her with confusion.

"'Lene, Severus just took the Wand Oath; will you?" Isolde asked, laying a hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"What? Yes, yes—I'll take it."

Sirius stepped forward and administered the Oath. It was a basic, no-frills, ordinary Wand Oath, the same one used by most employers. It wasn't a matter of a huge, lifelong commitment but more to obtain loyalty or to trust the word of another wizard completely.

With both Hermione and Severus under the Wand Oath, Sirius began.

"Severus, I believe you already know the first part of what will be said here: Remus Lupin is a werewolf. (Hermione did her best to feign surprise.) James, Peter and I refused to allow him to suffer alone in the Shrieking Shack and therefore we learned to become Animagi in fifth year."

Severus was unfazed. He knew that Sirius had potential and the power, not the work ethic. "Prove it."

Sirius inhaled slowly through his nose and exhaled through his mouth as his body changed from that of a handsome young man to a huge and shaggy black dog. He trotted around for a few minutes and cocked his head at Severus before shifting back, breathing heavily.

"The trouble is that after a full moon, we're all just about magically and physically exhausted. Zelda and I remained in our forms for days."

Isolde jumped into the conversation. "I couldn't change back to my body for the duration of the full moon. Moony—that's Remus as a wolf—didn't know me or anything, and he found me unfamiliar and dangerous. The first night, he clawed me; that's what the bandage is, and Sirius decided to stay with me as a dog."

"You were the jackal I saw then," Severus said matter-of-factly, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I wanted to tell you," Isolde replied, hanging her head.

"We were so worried!" Hermione burst, her eyes brimming with tears. Severus leapt to his feet and held her as Isolde and Sirius stood numbly.

"Don't you understand why we couldn't?" Sirius asked, taking hold of Isolde's hand. "It wasn't safe for us and we didn't want to burden you with such knowledge."

"I respect and love both of you so much," Isolde added, resting her other hand on Severus's shoulder, "but I—it wasn't my place to tell." She reached forward and gave Severus a clumsy hug before embracing Hermione. "You know that you're my best friends, but the Gryffindors and I get along too. I don't want to be torn apart, okay?"

Both Severus and Hermione nodded as Isolde returned to Sirius, wrapping her arms around his waist. She reached up and kissed his cheek as Hermione's eyes widened, remembering the cemetery Sirius would one day take her to and who the Black Angel was for. She pulled away from Severus before kissing him soundly on the mouth and saying, "I have to go and get some work done for a . . . independent Arithmancy project for Professor Vector."

She bolted from the room as a gob smacked Severus called after her, "But we have that class together and Vector never assigned anything like that!"

He shook his head, turning back to Isolde and Sirius. "I'll never understand you women."

Isolde laughed. Sirius agreed. "I don't even try anymore, mate."

"Well then," Isolde said, after giving both boys a light dunce slap, "anyone else hungry?"

* * *

Hermione raced back to her dormitory—her own, not the one she and Severus now seemed to share. It had been so long since she had last had a good Arithmancy problem—one with possibilities and variable outcomes and inconstant factors; she hadn't had this much of an intellectual challenge since the War, when she had worked to determine the factors that would make Harry most likely to succeed.

This was something different; she almost believed that she could change lives completely, perhaps change the future completely without affecting the future of the Wizarding World. It was something that could be (relatively) no-pressure for her.

Hermione Granger pulled out her parchment book and a few bottles of ink and her sharpest quills, rubbing her hands together in anticipation. She began by noting the absolute constants that would affect the life of Isolde Chase in some way or another: the first rise of Voldemort, Severus joining the Death Eaters, the 1981 murder of the Potters and the defeat of Voldemort . . .

Hermione also felt it important to make a few little assumptions based on Isolde's most probable actions in the future, especially concerning her place in the First War. There was no doubt in her mind that Isolde would take sides quickly, and that she would join the Order of the Phoenix. Her joining the Order and Severus becoming a Death Eater would lead to a schism between them, which would have a profound impact on Isolde's life, especially as, Hermione assumed, that Helene Fermier would most likely (and hopefully) be restored to her own time as Hermione Granger. Then, basing her guess on the theory that Isolde Chase would survive the First War, she would lose Sirius to Azkaban.

A little gasp escaped Hermione's lips, and her quill stopped flying across the parchment, blotting the edge of the perfect cursive in the last word she had written. Isolde would most certainly kill herself; she had to be the one for whom the angel was erected—the resemblance to her costume for the Masque was the clue. In order to verify this, Hermione knew she would have to establish some sort of precedence for self-mutilation. It would serve no real purpose, as her mind perceived the relationships and explored the possibilities she had derived from the certainties.

Setting her quill down, she tied back her hair and furrowed her brow. The best way to insert people, herself included, into an Arithmantic equation was to determine the element the corresponded out of either the classical elements (water, earth, fire and air) or using one of the less common disciplines. Hermione closed her eyes, feeling through the vast library of her mind for the books she had read and remembered, mentally pulling books of relevant subject matter out and scanning through them; her mind was focused and thoroughly concentrated on the matter at hand.

Having run through a list of the various possibilities, Hermione eventually chose to work with the Japanese interpretation of the elements: water, wind, earth, fire and void. For herself, she chose Earth, considering her logical nature and innocence and growth. She could change, yet stay the same person fundamentally, just as the Earth will renew itself after a fire, trees and animals returning to their home and finding it different and the same all at once.

Severus was elusive and transient and fluid as Water, and the way he could shift from himself to the icy shell of a Death Eater she had once seen in him could (and would, she swore to herself) return to the man she had fallen in love with. He was like a river through a battlefield tainted with blood and hatred; the dilution happened with time and patience and love, but he was still tainted. She would face that in the future, she knew, but she also knew that Water and Earth were corresponding elements. They were simply meant to be, even to the core of their being.

Sirius, she determined after careful thought, was his natural opposite: Fire. He was impulsive and intimidating and passionate in his beliefs. He was also nurturing and warm and kind, like the fire warming the hearth on a December night. He could become as dangerous and destructive as anything with little provocation, but he was also soft and warm and sweet. Hermione had never realized how narrow her perception of the Sirius Black she would know was, nor how deeply he felt.

Isolde . . . Isolde was a challenge. She had a creative spark that simply didn't manifest itself in the Wizarding World; Hermione had only ever heard of two Wizarding musicians: the Weird Sisters and Celestina Warbeck. Hermione then considered the mystery of Isolde's parents and the ring that she had been given on her birthday and the red eyes she was left with. There was something not natural about her—there was no other explanation for it, no matter how much Hermione cared for her. The extraordinary paleness, the apparent ease with which she'd become an Animagus . . . Isolde herself was something strange or extraordinary without knowing it, which was perhaps the root of her extraordinariness, according to Roald Dahl. Hermione classified Isolde as the element Void, an element which represented the heavens, the metaphysical and the unexplained.

Having made a few element charts and lists and the like, Hermione was, at long last, ready to begin plotting the equation and determining the course of events. She never got a chance that night, though, having worked until three in the morning and falling asleep with her head on her desk and her quill in her hand, ever a scholar at heart.


	17. Chapter 17

Reviews are incredibly appreciated, and I will certainly try to answer every one of them, but I can't do that if I don't get any, can I? Besides, I like knowing what is running through your head . . . it gives me more material to work with.

* * *

Blackbird Fly

_**Chapter Seventeen**_

Severus shook her awake the next morning, waving a warm cinnamon bun under her nose. He smirked as she snatched it and ate greedily before asking the time.

"You have time to change your clothes. That's about it," he said, grinning lasciviously at the thought of seeing her again.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Sev. As you said, we don't have time," she replied cheekily, wriggling out of her skirt and unbuttoning her shirt at the same time. Before he had a chance to really enjoy the moment, she was dressed and gently tossing books into her bag.

Severus watched fondly before his eye was drawn to the open parchment book on Hermione's desk, his eyebrow quirked and his curiosity piqued by the bubbly cursive spelling out elements. He scanned the page, finding his name quickly, but feeling himself grow pale with fear and disgust when he saw "Constant: Severus Snape initiated as Death Eater."

* * *

They made it to DADA with two minutes to spare, much to their surprise, and they took their normal table to the left of Isolde and Sirius in the back. Professor McKinnon swept into the room, wearing a huge hippie-style skirt and flowing, slightly mismatched blouse under tie-dyed robes. Her hair was stringy and she was barefoot and most likely a burnt-out, ex-hippie, ex-addict, but her classes were useful and she could be terrifying when she wanted to be. Rumor had it that she not only dealt to students on the side to supplement her income, but that she was one of the leaders of the army Dumbledore had mustered to fight Grindelwald. Based on her many demonstrations of advanced defensive magic, most were inclined to believe the rumors.

"Good morning, students," she said dreamily, leading Hermione to wonder if she would eventually become Mrs. Lovegood, who she knew had died when Luna was young. "Don't you just love the smell of fresh flowers?" she asked, pausing to admire a plump marigold on her desk. "Ah, well. Today we will be working on a very advanced charm used for defense against a great many of the Dark creatures of the world, most notably, Dementors and Lethifolds. Any ideas?"

"The Patronus Charm, Professor," replied a smug looking Bellatrix Black.

"Correct. Can anyone demonstrate?"

Isolde was chosen and she approached the front of the room, her mind flipping through the memories of this year, eventually landing on the memory of her first Animagus transformation. Raising her wand, her eyes glinting and deadly, she bellowed the charm and flourished her wand, smiling with pride at the side of her pearly dragon.

"Excellent!" Professor McKinnon cried, clapping excitedly. "And such an unusual form, too. Dragons are quite rare, often reserved for wizards—witches, in this case—of immense power. They stand for the elemental magic and the spiritual and the fierce. Are you fierce, Miss Chase?"

"'Course I am, Professor," Isolde said, returning to her seat. No one really commented on it, as most of them already knew Professor McKinnon was a bit stoned, no matter if she'd been smoking or not.

"You go, girl! Girl power!" When her rallying cry was met with little enthusiasm (aside from a few Ravenclaws who refused to wear make-up, perfume and bras, the latter to the delight of their male House members), she moved on to tell them exactly how the charm was performed and, after ten or fifteen minutes of practice, instructed them to form a single file line to demonstrate their ability to perform the charm. Once the charm had been satisfactorily performed, she would then announce the symbolism of the creature in question before scribbling a little on the parchment to mark grades.

* * *

_Isolde Chase (dragon): O_

_Bellatrix Black (hornet): E_

_Narcissa Black (skunk): A_

_Rabastan Lestrange (tarantula): O_

_Antonin Dolohov (elephant): A_

_James Potter (stag): O_

_Sirius Black (coyote): O_

_Remus Lupin (wolf): O_

_Peter Pettigrew (mouse): A_

_Severus Snape (crow): O_

_Helene Fermier (crow): O_

_Theodore Nott II (salmon): O_

_Frank Longbottom (moose): E_

_Alice Klein (bear): A_

_Emmeline Vance (horse): E

* * *

_

"I hadn't realized that my Patronus changed," Severus said in wonderment once they left Defense against the Dark Arts.

"What was it before, Sev?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious, remembering the silver doe in the Forest of Dean.

He scowled when Helene asked, having put Lily Evans behind him ever since she had tried to hex Isolde behind her back. He'd thought that sort of behavior was above her, the little non-apology-accepting-hypocrite. "It was a doe."

Sirius sniggered, and Isolde elbowed him roughly in the chest.

"Mine changed, too, Sev." The revelation from Helene shocked him, and he asked her what hers had been.

"A pretty little otter. I never used the charm in a practical situation, but it was necessary to learn. I wonder why ours both changed."

"I believe that had I not known Lily Evans, my Patronus would have been the crow the first time I cast the charm. And I know why yours changed," he reminded her, smirking.

"Shove it, both o' you. Neither of us," Isolde said, indicating herself and Sirius, "wants to hear that."

As they shared a free period after DADA alternate days, the group of four headed to the library, sharing a table in the alcove Hermione had showed Isolde during her "first week" at Hogwarts. Spreading their books out was easy enough, though most of the table space was covered immediately with parchment and quills and huge, swotty books that made Sirius, and, to a lesser extent, Isolde shudder. Sirius and Isolde had magical power in spades, but the theory and the book-learning side of school had never much interested them; to her credit, Isolde was a decent bull-shitter and was able to breeze through her essays with only a bit of help from the books, usually landing at least an E for her trouble. Sirius rarely bothered to do the trivial assignments and required quite a bit of motivation for others, though his practical work always received an E or above.

Isolde reached into her bag, pulling out a letter she had received during breakfast the week before. It was a normal, chatty missive written by her mother and father inquiring about friends and schoolwork and the mundane parts of being a witch. Her older brother Matt had also scribbled an indecipherable something at the end, most likely a joke or something ridiculous about her. She grinned as she tried to read his handwriting, failing miserably and laughing a little at herself.

"Laughing to oneself—never a good sign," Severus whispered theatrically to Hermione who winked at Sirius.

The boy's expression immediately became crestfallen, and he grabbed Isolde, clutching her to him and dramatically announcing that he would find her the best care in the entire world, no matter the cost or the burden; Severus and Hermione dissolved into muffled laughter, Hermione snorting as Isolde flailed her arms and tried to escape.

"Geroff me!" She swore into Sirius's robes, pushing him away as best she could. He backed off once Madam Pince strolled by, eyeing them with disdain and suspicion.

"What's in the letter, Philomel?" Sirius asked, smoothing her hair down and kissing her cheek before resuming his seat.

"My mum wants to know what I'm doing for the winter hols. They're only a week off, and I was wondering if you'd all like to," she paused shyly, hanging her head and casting her eyes downwards," to come to my house for the holiday."

Hermione jumped on the offer, nodding her head and smiling excitedly for an opportunity to learn more about Isolde Chase as a friend and as a major player in the British Wizarding World's future. Severus agreed to come, having planned to spend his holiday—with the exception of the third day after Boxing Day—with Helene and his newfound friends.

"I usually spend the holidays with the-the others," Sirius said quietly, "and I was going to ask you if you wanted to join us."

"I wanted you to meet everyone, Puppy," Isolde said, "and my parents are all excited to meet you, seeing as I've mentioned you all in my letters."

"I'll come, Isolde, that wasn't the question, but the Potters are pretty much my family now, and I do want you to know them." Seeing Isolde's confusion, he looked over to Hermione and Severus, who watched the couple with great interest. "I'll tell you later," he mumbled.

Satisfied, Isolde set off to writing a short reply to her parents, telling them that, yes, her friends would certainly join them for the holidays and chastising her brother's poor penmanship.

* * *

The fast approaching holidays made the time pass faster, and the excitement intensified when a Hogsmeade weekend was announced, allowing the students to go and do their Yuletide shopping. Helene and Isolde made plans to shop together for gifts for Severus and Sirius, and the thought of the number of people she had to buy for made Isolde swoon a little, as she wasn't used to it, in the end. For Remus, she wanted to find a good record; Warren Zevon's _Excitable Boy_ album was her first choice, though that would have to be bought in Muggle London. For Peter, she assumed that it would be safest to go with a nice box of candy—something inoffensive. Lily's gift was found, oddly enough, while Isolde was scrying in a crystal ball during her last Divination class; she only hoped that she would be able to find it in Hogsmeade, as it certainly couldn't be found in Muggle London. James was another tough person to find a gift for, but she assumed that she would be able to find something. The of course, there were the gifts for her parents and her brother. Thank Merlin she'd been squirreling away her pocket money for the year.

Once her list had been made, Isolde ran to the Entrance Hall to meet Sirius, who looked attractive as always in his dark cloak and a blue jumper. He folded her into his cloak for a hug, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Have you figured everything out?"

"I think so," she replied, mulling over her list in her head. "Could you help me shop for them, Sirius? I just don't want to find the wrong thing."

"'Course, Philomel. I like spending time with you, remember?"

She chuckled and they left the Entrance Hall, hand in hand and fingers entwined, meandering down the frosted path to the village.

* * *

Helene and Severus wandered through the village, as Severus had thought it easier to shop for Isolde together. They wander through Honeydukes and Scrivenshaft's—even Dervish and Banges—and found nothing. His mind began to wander to the day that the holidays will bring: the first time he will meet the man who is to be his Lord.

He did not consider himself a fool, nor was he naïve enough to believe that there was any escaping the brand he had already seen on Rabastan Lestrange's arm or Bellatrix Black's arm. He hates the idea of it on his arm, the burning black against the pallid skin. Part of him almost wants it to hurt—begs it to hurt him—because he knows he will deserve it for what he will do in the name of the Dark Mark and the Dark Lord.

Severus glanced down at his Helene, watching her from behind his curtain of hair as she shops, her eyes flicking across racks of jumpers and rows of books. He had yet to confront her about every lie that she had told on the night of the Masquerade, but he had no idea of how to do that or what he would learn from her. He didn't even know what she would appreciate as a Christmas gift—how was he to know how to handle such a delicate subject?

His sigh broke Hermione out of her concentration. She sighed too, putting the book she had pulled out of the shelf down.

She wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him to her and asking gently, "Are you alright, Severus?"

"I'm fine," he said, shrugging her concern away. "Just thinking, that's all."

She smiled when she met his eyes, pressing her lips to his for a moment and he savored it, darting his tongue out to taste the warmth of her. For whatever reason, he knew that as long as she was there, he could survive; he could have a future; he would make it out of whatever was coming and he would be okay because she would be there at the end.

* * *

Isolde met Severus and Helene while Sirius went off with the other Marauders to shop and pal around. They had a quick bite to eat in the Three Broomsticks as well as a butter beer to warm them up, as each one was shivering and had roses in their cheeks. They each hid their purchases in their cloaks as they talked and laughed and drank their butter beers, renewing the friendship they had shared before the sexual tension elephant came.

"Well, 'Lene, are you ready to get shopping?" Isolde asked happily, hopping off her stool and grabbing her purse.

Hermione agreed, drained her butter beer and left with her as Severus watched them go, shaking his head in amusement as the two left, arm in arm and skipping merrily out in Hogsmeade, their reflections blurred by the frosty window glass.

"But do you think he'll like it?" Hermione asked Isolde for the umpteenth time in as many minutes.

"For the last time, yes! It's perfect, 'Lene. He'd be a fool not to like it!" Isolde's patience was running rather thin by then as she still couldn't find a good gift for Severus.

Helene had found him a beautiful black fur-lined cloak, which she had then monogrammed with a silvery "SS." It was the perfect length and weight for a winter cloak and it was far nicer than the one he wore now. He always seemed so cold, and his cloak was short and threadbare. It made her smile even more when she remembered that he wore it in the future at the Yule Ball during the Triwizard Tournament while he had been blasting away at the roses in the gardens.

"What do you think of this, Helene?" Isolde asked, holding an obsidian knife with a pewter handle. "I thought it would be useful in his brewing," she explained, "since obsidian doesn't dull and won't react with many of the more volatile ingredients."

"I think he'll love it," Hermione said, beaming at her friend.

"I want to get some engraving done on the blade," Isolde told the shopkeeper at the counter as she presented him with the knife.

"Saying what?" the man enquired impatiently.

"There's always something," Isolde said firmly. "He'll need to remember that someday, I think."

She refused to elaborate.


	18. Chapter 18

Blackbird Fly

_**Chapter Eighteen**_

The Hogwarts Express came two days later to take the students for Christmas, and among their ranks were Sirius, Isolde, Severus and Hermione. They stood nervously, huddled and shivering at the station in Hogsmeade as Sirius returned, floating four cups of cocoa for them with his wand. They each took one gratefully, though Severus required a bit of prodding from the rest of them, though the cold eventually overtook his pride.

The train ride proved to be a great deal of fun once Hermione had suggested a rousing game of "Never Have I Ever."

"The rules are simple," Hermione said as the group listened. "Each person raises their hands, and each finger counts as one. If someone says something that you've done, put one down. First person with all their fingers down loses." She had hoped that this would be a good way to get some less common and easy-to-learn information on Isolde Chase, as well as have a good laugh. She resolved herself to commit it all to memory as best she could.

Isolde started. "Never have I ever fantasized about one of my professors."

Isolde raised her eyebrows and everyone had a laugh when Hermione, Severus and Sirius each put down one finger. "You've got to spill. All of you," she added warningly when Severus opened his mouth to protest. You first, Helene."

"Well," Hermione said, embarrassed as she remembered Professor Snape, Professor Lupin and of course, Gilderoy Lockhart. "They taught at my old school."

"They?" Severus added, his eyes suspicious.

She blushed. "There were three of them. I'm pretty ashamed about the one of them." Hermione then recounted some of the escapades caused by Lockhart in her second year. "Thank Merlin the poor man obliviated himself with a bad wand."

"I don't even think I want to know," Sirius murmured to Isolde, squeezing her thigh. "Crazy French men."

"What about you?" Hermione accused, turning to Sirius and narrowing her eyes.

"Professor Sinistra, o' course, though not recently," Sirius said, casting a side-long glance at Isolde.

"Severus?" Hermione asked, poisonously sweet.

He mumbled something, prompting her to say, "What?" repeatedly until he nearly shouted, "Professor Sprout!"

There was absolute silence until they all burst into laughter as Severus fumed and blushed and scowled and rambled. Hermione managed to stop his babbling with a smiling kiss, at which point he calmed down and said, glaring at Isolde, "Never have I ever set my two best friends up on a date because I wanted them to date!"

Sirius looked around confusedly until Hermione explained the situation to him and he looked away, making Severus interrogate him further.

"Well, erm . . . I made the costume shop owner think that Zelda and I were dating before the Ball so that I could surprise her with a matching costume for the Ball so that I wouldn't have to ask her unless someone else did because I was scared to."

"That's a little creepy, but I'll take it," Isolde said, laughing as she leaned on Sirius's shoulder. He draped an arm over her and smiled as he kissed the top of her head.

"Never have I ever," Sirius began slowly. He paused for a moment before declaring triumphantly, "Never have I ever been a Slytherin!"

"Never have I ever been a Gryffindor!" countered Hermione, feeling momentarily guilty for a moment. But, she rationalized; Helene Fermier was a Slytherin, not Hermione Granger.

The game kept them occupied for the length of the ride until they had to change into Muggle clothes. Isolde lost, saving her left middle finger for the end. It kept them entertained as they told stories and laughed at one another's blunders, leading to a very confused trolley witch, as several references to Isolde and a box of chocolate frogs were made, much to the amusement of everyone but the poor witch.

Once the train had stopped, the four teenagers stepped out of their happy compartment and Isolde began scanning the crowd.

"Do you see them?" Severus asked, feeling a bit nauseous.

"Not ye—"

Isolde was cut off as a large man with dark hair and dark eyes grabbed her from behind; she screamed a little before she broke down in giggles as she had seen the face of her assailant. "Seriously, Matthew? That was necessary?"

He backed away a little, but his face was serious. "It is when someone's a terrible correspondent. . ."

"By someone, he means himself," Isolde whispered theatrically to Sirius, who was holding her hand lightly.

Matthew smiled again as Isolde went and hugged him, introducing him as her older brother before asking, "Where're Mum and Doc?"

"They sent me to come get you and your friends. I'm glad to see that they're real this time," he joked. "They have names, too, or should I just address them as 'you?'"

"I'm Helene."

"My name is Severus."

"Sirius Black."

"You're joking, right? That's an adjective, not a name," Matthew said, sure that Sirius was pulling his leg.

"Tell my Mum, Walburga, that, then," Sirius responded, making Matthew guffaw in disbelief.

Isolde smiled. The two were officially friends.

* * *

The ride in her parents' VW bus was little more than a nap for the four teenagers, who, once their luggage had been tossed into the back of the bus, had piled in and collapsed, exhausted and content, onto a pile of pillows and blankets that Isolde's parents had placed there for long journeys, as there were no back passenger seats in the bus. Severus and Helene were spread out in the center or the van, spooned together; Isolde was laying against one the driver's seat, Sirius's head resting in the crook of her shoulder. Matthew glanced back at the sleepers every so often as he drove, smiling gently at Hermione and Severus and scowling a little as Isolde and Sirius, wondering why she hadn't mentioned her new boyfriend.

"Wake up, you lot! We're here!" Matt called happily, stirring the four from their nap. Severus threw an arm over his eyes when the trunk opened, blocking the light from his eyes as the others grabbed their bags and headed for the pleasant looking house, Isolde leading the way.

Her house was not palatial by any means, but it was comfortably large enough for a family of four and whatever guests they would have. It was open and airy, though most of the furniture was Victorian antiques mixed with modern art and design. A thin, blonde woman appeared out of a kitchen that smelled like baking biscuits, and she approached Isolde with open arms.

"Mum, I've missed you so much!" cried Isolde, hugging her mother tightly and closing her eyes.

"I've missed you too, Isolde," her mother replied, pulling away from her daughter and cupping her chin with one hand. "Look at those eyes of yours now—very sharp! I've never seen anything like them. How did it happen?"

"It was the ring you sent me . . . I actually wound up putting on a little show in the Great Hall, but I'll tell you about that later. Where's Doc?"

"He's got work until eight, but he wishes he could be here, and he says hello," her mother answered, throwing an arm around Isolde's shoulders and squeezing. "Now, these are your friends?"

The three other teenagers followed the sounds of the voices, and peeked around a corner to see what was going on. Isolde's mother was a thin woman with pretty blonde hair and pale brown eyes. She seemed to be the near-antithesis to Molly Weasley, but there was that same aura of warmth and love around her. She was a bit younger than they'd expected, too; she couldn't have been much older than thirty-five, though Matthew was around twenty years old. They assumed Isolde would explain later.

"Let me guess," her mother said as the teenagers filed into a single line with Isolde and Matthew each taking an end. She extended a hand to Hermione, saying, "I can only hope that you are Helene Fermier. And you," she continued, turning to Severus, "could only be Severus, unless you're Sirius and the name was meant for your personality." She laughed a little at her own joke.

Sirius stepped forward. "I'm Sirius, madam, and I must say that my mother was completely wrong as far as the more . . . obvious meaning goes." He didn't bother to add that it did make sense in the fact that his Animagus form was a large black dog.

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you, and please, call me Donna." Isolde's mother shook his hand and Severus's before checking the biscuits baking in the oven. "Go on down and put your things in Isolde's room while the biscuits cool," she said, taking them out of the oven and placing them on the counter.

"Follow me!" Isolde called, slinging her bag over her shoulder as best she could (it was rather large) and leading them to a door just off the main hallway. "My room is in the basement," she explained, flicking on the lights as they went.

Her room here had the same loft bed that they remembered from school shoved into a corner of the room, but everything else—so far as they could tell—was rather different; the room was grand, taking up the whole of the basement, at least from what they could tell. The ceiling was painted a dark, beautiful grey and the walls were like an art gallery: one wall had a mural of Millais' _Ophelia_, a beautiful frame painted to surround it. Another wall had Picasso's _Guitarist_; the other walls accented the paintings, both a shade of a pale blue-grey. There was a little platform in one of the corners, a set of drums near the wall and a microphone and speaker system installed, ready to use.

"Once I turned of age, I came down here and had a redecorating party. It was amazing to see how much easier it was to do with a wand. Anyway, we're all to stay down here; I have my own bathroom and that's the stage over there. I hope you're all okay with this." Isolde grinned at them before Transfiguring the loft bed into a four-poster, queen sized bed, piled high with pillows and blankets and the like. "Any preferences, you two?" she asked, turning to Hermione and Severus.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, a bit confused.

"I had assumed you two would want to share a bed," Isolde replied placidly. "My parents won't mind; they're ex-beatniks, ex-hippies—you know the type. Besides, an Imperturbable Charm is all you need, and there's plenty of space for us to dress in the morning. It'll be fine, so long as you two don't shag like bunnies the whole time we're here."

Isolde took a chair from against the wall and neatly Transfigured it into another four-poster, queen sized bed for Hermione and Severus to share. "Is that all right, then?"

Severus nodded once before they headed back upstairs, eager for the promised biscuits, especially if they were chocolate chip.

* * *

Isolde's father brought home pizzas for dinner that evening when he returned from his job working as a professor of American and European history at Cambridge University. He barely had time to put the boxes on the counter before Isolde ran to hug him.

He smoothed her hair down and hugged her tightly. "I missed you, lady. How's school?"

"Well enough, I guess. How are you doing, Doc?"

"Good, good. Now, would you mind introducing me to your friends?" he asked, looking over the rag-tag group of teenage wizards congregated in his kitchen.

"Erm . . . right," Isolde said, blushing a little. "This is Helene—she's new to Hogwarts this year—and this is Severus—he's in Slytherin like me and Helene—and this is Sirius, a Gryffindor and my . . ." The next word was indecipherable.

"Your what, Isolde? I didn't hear that," her mother said, smiling a knowing smile.

"My boyfriend," Isolde repeated, continuing to blush prettily.

"Like that was hard to tell," Matt chuckled, watching Sirius take Isolde's hand covertly.

"Hush up, you," Isolde hissed as her parents began serving the pizza and pouring drinks, Hermione offering whatever help she could. Severus took a seat at the table, his back ramrod straight.

"Relax, my young friend. Take a break and relax," Matt said, clapping a hand on his shoulder and laying a plate of pizza in front of him.

The corners of Severus's mouth twitched slightly. Matt decided to consider that a smile and began digging into his pizza, folding the crust in half and savoring the first bite. Severus looked at his plate, bewildered as to the proper eating of pizza; he looked around the table as the rest of them ate, relieved to see that Sirius looked just as awkward, for a rather pleasant change.

Isolde noticed their discomfort, and after a sip of her water, picked up her pizza in a rather exaggerated motion and ate it, emphasizing the use of her hands. Severus caught on and followed suit once he was certain that the eating of pizza truly was done with the hands, but Sirius just sat stubbornly, watching everyone else it in amazement, so foreign was the idea of eating with hands.

"Sirius, are you all right?" Donna asked bemusedly, watching the young man glare at the food on his plate. "Is there something else you would like?"

"That's not it at all," he replied, lowering his eyes in embarrassment. "I don't know what pizza is, and I've never eaten anything with my hands. It's just not done in my family."

Isolde caught on quickly. "Pureblood thing, right?"

"Yeah," Sirius said gratefully. "My family is entirely magical, aside from a few Squibs here and there. We don't do Muggle things like this."

"Would you like some silverware?" Isolde's father asked.

"No, I want to do this the right way," Sirius answered, picking his pizza up in both hands, glancing around the table. "This is the right way, isn't it?"

The others nodded, watching as Sirius took his first bite of pizza, his eyes widening as he tasted it, savoring the flavor. "That's . . . that's great, that is."

By the time dinner had ended, each of the pizzas had been completely eaten.

The four Hogwarts students went to their shared bedroom after dinner, sitting around a low table like the one in Isolde's dormitory, playing a game of poker and using the left over chocolate chips from the biscuits Donna had made earlier to bet with.

"So . . .," Sirius began awkwardly, looking over his cards and playing with the chips in his bowl. "They seem . . . nice."

"They are, aren't they?" Isolde said happily, placing her cards back on the table and pushing them towards Hermione, who was acting as dealer. She wouldn't continue the hand for a pair of fours and no face high.

"Matt doesn't look anything like your mother," Hermione commented, trying to decide if she would continue to play. Severus's smirk didn't look too promising. She was, frankly, regretting the fact that she taught him how to play Texas Hold 'Em. He was too damn good at the game.

"They aren't related, actually. Doc lived with Matt and his first wife in the States until she died in a car accident. He got a job offer from Cambridge and met Mum and they got married. I think Mum and I bonded over not being related to anyone in our family," Isolde said, smiling wistfully. "We go back to America every so often to visit my grandparents in New York City. I love it there."

Severus raised the bet, hoping Sirius wouldn't call his bluff, as he had little more than a pair of eights and a king high. At Hermione's signal, he laid down his cards, swearing a little as Sirius took the piles of chocolate chips from the middle of the table, as he'd had three of a kind.

Isolde rolled her eyes and took the cards from Hermione, dealing them out quickly. "So, what would you all like to do for tomorrow? Matt told me that there would be a discount show at the movies tomorrow."

"What movie are they showing?" Hermione asked. She remembered watching some of his movies in her time when they would air on cable.

"I think that they are showing _The Who's Tommy_, since Keith Moon died this year and he was a fantastic musician, at least in my opinion. Besides, he owned a little hotel near here for a while and I thought we could make a day of it; you know, do some shopping, go to the movies—that sort of thing. Are you interested?" she asked, addressing the group.

Severus, who hadn't been to the cinema in years, shrugged and nodded curtly, saying nothing as he continued to examine his cards. Sirius jumped at the chance to go to the cinema again, having gone once with the Marauders and Lily during their fifth year to see a film called _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_. It had, until recently, been one of the greatest things he'd ever seen.

They continued to play, planning their day tomorrow as they did so and groaning as Severus repeatedly decimated them, though he was kind enough to share his chocolate chips once the game had ended.

* * *

Isolde pulled on the pajamas she wore during the winter—a tank top and a pair of loose lounge pants—quickly before brushing her teeth and washing her face, hoping to be out of the bathroom as fast as possible to allow someone else a chance to use it.

Sirius was already dressed and ready for bed when she returned to her room, reclining against the headboard of her bed, wearing only a pair of black boxer shorts. He patted the spot next to him on the bed, and she found that she was only too happy to fill it. Isolde leapt into bed, pouncing at him as he laughed full and loud, tickling her sides lightly.

"Oy!" they heard from behind the curtains of the other bed. "Imperturbable Charm, please! I don't believe that either of us wishes to hear your sordid doings over there!"

"Sorry, Severus!" Isolde called back, closing the hangings around the bed. "Just make sure you do the same!" She giggled a little before casting the charm and lighting her wand, sticking it to one of the bed posts using a charm. Sirius followed suit, sticking his to the bedpost opposite hers before he leaned against the headboard and opened his arms to her.

Isolde climbed into them gratefully, realizing for the first time that this was their first time touching so . . . intimately. They had shared a bed before, but she had never seen him so naked. He smelled like spice and a stick of opium-scented incense that she had smelled once as a child, but not in an overwhelming way. His scent made her smile. She reached up to kiss his neck softly, barely more than a whisper of her lips over his skin, but he felt it just the same, and pulled her closer for a kiss goodnight.

* * *

Hermione and Severus kissed languidly in the sanctuary of their four-poster (once Severus had warded and charmed it to within an inch of its life), his hands finding their way down her back and cupping her bum. She whimpered a little when she felt him digging into her stomach, but it felt so right . . . so delicious. Hermione slid her hands under the waistband of his pants, cupping him and caressing him with her thumb.

He pulled away, raising an eyebrow at her. "Don't start something you are unprepared to finish, witch."

Hermione grinned at him and slid down his body, stopping at the bulge between his legs. Severus watched intently, trying to figure her next move. Pausing for only a brief moment, she smiled before tugging his pants and boxers down to place a kiss on his hardened cock. His sharp intake of breath told Hermione to keep going, and she did, kissing her way down and back up his length, licking the top like a lolly once she was done. His eyes were shut tight; his hands fisted in the sheets and, out of kindness, Hermione slithered back up his body and kissed him hard on the mouth.

Grateful that he wouldn't be forced to lower himself to the level of inexperienced schoolboy (never mind that he was one), he spooned her into him, sliding his hands to remove her panties and cup her breasts, guiding himself into her from behind, fucking her as slowly as he could, slowly building their pleasure until they shuddered into sleep.

He would talk to her tomorrow—someday, for a Slytherin know that tomorrow is another day.


	19. Chapter 19

Hello, darlings! I've been writing quite a bit, and the story's been getting away with me. I'd swear it had a life of its own . . . In any case, I've got another two chapters and, hopefully, I'll have more before everything begins to get crazy again . . . stupid September.

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

Hermione woke the earliest the following morning, her mind set on the work she had already begun at Hogwarts. Now, she knew, there were new factors to add in: her parents, her brother . . . the challenge was wonderfully stimulating.

As quietly as she could, she opened the amber hangings and slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Severus; he was a very light sleeper. She whispered a Summoning Charm to get her materials before she went and began her work at Isolde's desk, placing the three members of Isolde's family into the equation and whatever else she felt was necessary or at least useful in some way or another. Damn Butterfly Effect and all that . . .

Once she had determined all of the variables she knew, she began inserting them into a neat little equation she had developed; Hermione had created it when she had been working on the problem of the Final Battle, and its versatility was important, especially to this type of work, in that it allowed her to place factors in the equation where necessary and other work she had already done would not be quite so unpredictably affected by it. Hopefully, this problem would be solved quickly enough and once it was, she could focus on a way to get herself back home.

* * *

Sirius woke uncharacteristically early and was happy to find that Isolde was unable to keep herself away during the night, her arm wrapped around his waist and her head against his side. He began to smooth her hair back, combing it carefully with his fingers as best he could. She smiled a little, humming softly in her sleep, and Sirius kissed the top of her head; he hoped it was a good dream.

His eyes drifted closed again after a while of watching her sleep, but it wasn't long before he felt a soft touch on his side and eyelashes fluttering against his side. "Morning, Isolde," Sirius said, sitting up and stretching. He draped a casual arm around her waist and pulled her back to him. He didn't like it when she was so far away.

"Feeling a bit possessive today, eh, Puppy?" She laughed as she leaned into him, both of them sitting lazily against the headboard.

"Always, Philomel, always," he replied, bringing his lips to hers. It was a chaste kiss, but he liked it—much to his surprise. He had never understood the beauty of them until now.

"Tell me how they found you," he said after a moment.

"What do you mean?" she asked, a bit startled at the question.

"You said you were adopted, and I was wondering how they found you." He was too cowardly to add that if they hadn't found her, he wouldn't have either.

"Mum and Doc had always wanted another child. Mom loves Matt and everything, but he isn't theirs—and he certainly isn't hers. They tried for a baby so hard, but a gynecologist—a Muggle lady doctor—said that Mum had a problem and wouldn't be able to carry a child full term without nearly killing herself in the process, especially since she had miscarried and lost the baby once before. On one of her walks after they found out—she was rather depressed—she found a tiny children's home that was little better than a Dickensian orphanage. She didn't even go home; she just called Doc and they came to adopt because this way, they could still have a child together, in a way."

"And then?" he prompted, making her blush a little.

"They spoke with the man who ran the house and filled out the paperwork; Mum used to say to Doc when I was little and being . . . well, a brat . . . that she wasn't sure all that red tape was worth it, especially that time I broke the footstool, but that's another story. In any case, all they needed to do was pick a child, and they hadn't realized how daunting it would be. On the appointment when they had to choose their new child, they had had to bring Matt along because they weren't able to find a sitter and while they were in the nursery, he wandered off, being about six at the time. He eventually found his way into the room for the toddlers, where I was with the other two-year-olds. When Mum and Doc found him, we were playing together and he didn't want to leave me behind. Doc always said that he had never seen Matt behave better with a child that age before or since."

He barked a quiet laugh, nuzzling her temple with his nose. "Have you ever learned about your other parents?"

Isolde sighed. "No. The man who ran the orphanage said that they were probably dead or something. When my mum told me I was adopted, she said that some people were born to the wrong parents—that they were just "tummy mums." Then, those kids would someday find the mum they should have had: their "heart mum." You know what I mean?"

"Yeah," he said, exhaling deeply. "Mine hates me because I'm a Gryffindor. I don't see the point in being a Pureblood; it just means that I'm probably inbred. When I fight in the War, I'm fighting for Dumbledore, not for . . ."

Sirius trailed off, remembering the day he knew he was the black sheep of the family . . . the day the man who would one day become the Dark Lord came to call.

* * *

_He had been sixteen at the time, and while he was not ignorant of his family's belief in their "superiority," he had not yet spoken out against it overtly, merely showing his displeasure by distancing him from them as best he could; this had, of course, begun the day he was Sorted into Gryffindor in lieu of the traditional, acceptable, proper, Slytherin._

_Regulus was still all right enough; he trusted Sirius, still looked up to him, though they maintained their distance at school. Brothers or not, Slytherins and Gryffindors were not often a good mix. It still hurt him that he hadn't seen his brother's devout belief in so trivial a hierarchy, but he loved Regulus—wanted the best for him. In his own way, Sirius was fighting a battle for his brother's soul as best he could, working to plant and nurture the seeds of rebellion in Regulus the way they were naturally planted in him._

_One lazy summer day— before all the fuss over Lord Voldemort and blood purity—back before the murders began—Sirius and Regulus had been playing a relatively friendly game of chess in the library, discussing what Madam Pince's true gender was (Regulus argued that she was female) when the house-elf had interrupted them, bowing low in his tea co__zy to tell them that their mother was entertaining a guest in the parlour for tea, and she wanted to introduce them. _

_Grudgingly, they left their game for the time being and went to the parlour, wary of their mother's guests and fully expecting the usual cheek-pinching routine, never mind that they were sixteen and fourteen, respectively._

_It was with surprise that they met a young man whom their mother giddily introduced as "Lord Voldemort." The man smiled the sort of smile that immediately put Sirius on guard. It didn't quite reach his reddish eyes, Sirius noticed, meeting them once Lord Voldemort had extended one pale hand, gripping Sirius's with long, slender fingers._

_"Master Sirius, I presume," he purred, gripping Sirius's arm tightly as he met the boy's eyes. He drew back quickly, as though burned. "The first Gryffindor in the bunch, I see. Please, sit."_

_Regulus seemed to be a bit jealous until Lord Voldemort gave him the same treatment, lauding his Slytherin accomplishments and the way he had upheld the family honour and tradition._

_Sirius artfully rolled his eyes once the stranger's back was turned, earning a glare from his mother for his trouble. _

_Kreacher brought each of the boys a cup and saucer for their tea; Sirius inclined his head in thanks before helping himself to one of the pastries that had been laid out. He didn't notice the way Lord Voldemort's brow raised or the way the man's fingers tented once he'd set his cup down._

_"There is something I believe I would like to discuss with you boys," he said finally, breaking the silence created by the boys' arrival._

_"And what would that be, sir?" Regulus enquired, obviously on his best behaviour._

_"I believe in a world that is right," Lord Voldemort replied. "It is a world in which those who are superior have power, and the inferior do not. I believe that you are both superior."_

_Regulus brightened a little. _

_Sirius remained sceptical. His Padfoot instincts, honed since last year, rarely led him astray, and they told him that Lord Voldemort was trouble. In spite of his five years as a Gryffindor, he had been raised as a Slytherin and knew enough by now to remain tight-lipped and aloof—for now, anyway._

_"I will need your help to create my utopia. Follow me, and all your dreams can come true. I will make you powerful; I can give you women—money—power—anything you should desire. All I ask is for your help in purging the unworthy from our new world."_

_"What do you mean by purging?" Sirius asked suddenly, his brow furrowing and his mind wandering to dangerous places. No matter how suspicious Lord Voldemort seemed to be, he couldn't mean what Sirius thought he meant._

_"I mean that those unworthy of using our magic will not be permitted to use it, my boy. They have no right to powers such as ours, don't you agree?" His eyes flashed, but Sirius, steadfast, stubborn and impulsive, refused to cow._

_"So when you say that they will not be permitted to use magic, you mean that . . ." Sirius trailed off, hoping the other man would finish his sentence. Regulus and Mrs. Black watched the scene with mild interest as though it were tennis._

_"I mean that they shall not have access to wands or the powers they should not have. Those who rebel would be unwise to do so."_

_"So anyone who fights back, dies? Is that it, then?"_

_"In crude terms, I suppose it would be viewed as such by those who are not capable of seeing my vision for the future of our world. I believe in power, and you are both powerful enough to join me." The man remained calm, though Sirius could see he was tensing slightly._

_"Sirius," his mother warned, "you are upsetting our guest. We don't wish to be rude, do we?"_

_"In this case, I think I do. You can't honestly believe in this charade, can you?" His wild eyes were met with blank stares. "No, no . . . I can't do this. I just can't do this. I'm leaving." Regulus simply watched in stony amazement; his brown eyes wide in a very un-Slytherin display of shock._

_He bolted up the stairs and to his room, scrawling a messy, "I'm coming over; I can't be at home any longer—explanation later," on a spare bit of parchment, addressing it to James and tying it to the leg of the family owl. _

_Sirius then pulled his old trunk out of the closet and began haphazardly piling his school things, some robes and Muggle clothing and some of the books and toys and knick-knacks he'd picked up along the years and had become especially fond of. Once his room was sparse and his trunk full (thank Merlin it was nigh to bottomless), he shrank the trunk down to pocket size and made sure to slam the door on his way out, pausing at the family tree before he left, blasting his own name off with wild glee and fierce pride.

* * *

_

"You did what you had to," Isolde said finally, brushing her fingers down his back aimlessly. His breath hitched and shuddered, his head lowering to her shoulder and the damp of his tears falling against her skin. She cradled him as best she could, humming one of the lullabies from the book he'd given her until he calmed, his breath evening out slowly.

Sirius met her eyes and took her face in his hands, smoothing his thumbs over her skin and bringing his lips to meet hers. Isolde closed her eyes, sighing as he parted her lips to deepen the kiss and pulling him closer to her, his bare chest pressed into her and his hardness against her thigh. She made a soft keening sound when he moved a hand to her bum, grinding into her, but Isolde regained her control when they broke apart for air, Sirius's dark hair curtaining around her and his forehead pressed to hers.

"We need to get dressed, Puppy."

She tried to pull away, but he tugged her back, frowning. "I thought you wanted me."

"I don't deny it, Sirius." Isolde swallowed heavily and hung her head, pulling away from him again. He didn't stop her this time.

"Then why?" he asked, trying to meet her eyes.

She evaded his gaze, a little ashamed. "This is happening so fast, don't you think? For the first time, I have friends who aren't dead. For the first time, I have a boyfriend and he happens to have a rather damning reputation. It's a little much to handle, all at once."

"I'm sorry," Sirius said, downcast; he hated feeling like he'd hurt people he cared about.

"It's not your fault I've been a social reject 'til now," she replied. "You've been more of a help than you know, Sirius. Just a little time is all I need."

Feeling him brighten slightly as their eyes finally met, Isolde leaned in and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek, just as he'd always done in the very beginning of their relationship, and the gesture made him smile.

* * *

The kitchen was alive with the scent of berry pancakes and sausage once they had dressed and gone upstairs for breakfast. Isolde's mother greeted each of the four with a kiss on the top of their head, though she had to wait for the boys to sit before they received theirs, being far too tall for her to reach.

Hermione laughed a little as Donna tutted at her daughter's jeans; they were shredded and ripped artistically, topped off with a pair of black motorcycle boots. Isolde shrugged and began eating happily, pouring syrup on her pancakes before she began. Sirius sat next to her, and as he was familiar with pancakes, ate them with great relish, welcoming the offer of a second helping, though he was careful to avoid getting syrup on his jumper and grey slacks.

Severus ate with great deliberation, Donna noticed, and his eyes rarely left the girl sitting across from him, whom she could only assume he was dating. She approved of the relationship, though the contrast between the two was almost comical. His clothes were entirely black and form-fitting while she wore a white tunic and a pair of jeans, her wand holding the wild hair atop her head back in some sort of twist. There was a natural warmth from her while he seemed so distant and cold . . . they were perfect together.

"So what have you all got planned for today?" Donna asked, pouring batter onto the pan to make another batch; Matt had yet to wake up.

"Going out for the day—movies, bit of shopping, maybe grab a bite to eat . . . just a few things in town," Isolde replied. "I figured I could show them around."

Donna pulled a few notes out of her pocket, slipping them to Isolde as surreptitiously as she could. "Be home no later than seven o'clock. That gives you—once you all finish eating—nine hours to get your day in. Call if you'll be late."

"Thanks, Mum. I love you," Isolde said, giving her mother a side hug.

"Your check's in the mail, Isolde," Donna said, laughing lightly and taking the pancakes off the griddle and putting them on the plate.

"Won't you be joining us, Donna?" Severus asked, motioning to the chair at one end of the table.

"I've already eaten, thanks for asking. Once Matt comes down, tell him he can heat up his breakfast before he heads off to work. I've got to get the groceries." Donna gave her daughter another kiss before grabbing her purse and heading out the door, taking the bus for her errands.

"You can all Apparate, right?" They nodded and she continued. "Matt asked to come along as he's taking most of the day off, so I'll have to leave for a moment or two to get him and it's the easiest way to get into town. I figure we'll see the afternoon show and get lunch at the cinema."

Once they had all finished, Hermione flicked her wand at the dishes, using a strong Scouring Charm before Sirius dried them and sent them whizzing back into the cabinets. Isolde went to fetch their coats, giving Sirius an old coat of her father's and giving Severus a black coat she'd seen her brother wear once. Isolde scribbled a quick note for Matt before they left for town, Apparating to an alleyway Isolde knew.

The four went through an assortment of shops that dotted Main Street through the town, seeing as it was about the only place where there were any shops.

Severus reached to open the door to the fourth shop, but he was stopped by Isolde, who hissed, "Don't!"

The others looked at her in confusion, Sirius holding back laughter and Severus raising a brow. "Why shouldn't I? It looks perfectly respectable."

"I know the clerk who works there. We were mates when were little and he's had a crush on me since I was, like, two!"

"Is that all?" Hermione asked, chuckling a little.

"We went out once," she replied, reddening, "and I have never had a more awkward night in my life. He simply showed up at my house and asked me if I wanted to go get ice cream. We barely talked and I wished I was dead!"

"You'll be just fine," Severus told her, squeezing her shoulder.

"Yeah," Sirius agreed, "we'll take care of it." He kissed her cheek before he whispered, "Just play along."

They made their way out of the store with little more than twenty minutes to spare before the movie, crowing and laughing as they walked towards the cinema.

"Did you see," Hermione asked, wiping a tear from her eye, "his face when you took Severus to the little machine to pick out a ring and then decided that a half-pound was too expensive!"

"It was almost as good as you and Isolde looking for baby clothes!" Severus replied, slinging an arm around her.

"I think the crowning achievement was when he asked Isolde if she was pregnant, and she just fluttered her lashes and said, 'I am in boarding school. Don't be so naïve.'"

"I don't think he'll be chasing you anymore, Zelda," Hermione said, smiling. It was a bit of a testament to her friendship with them to know that never in her friendship with Ron, Harry and Ginny, had they done anything like that. It was rather nice, she had to admit, to have friends without worrying about saving the world all the bloody time.

Damn thing just couldn't stay saved.

* * *

It was, Severus later decided, a fantastic day, all things considered. They had each gotten a hotdog, a soda and split a huge container of popcorn and various candies to eat for a late lunch while they watched the movie, though Isolde and Matt had done the oddest things, like "head-banging" and "air guitaring" (which was nothing more than finger wiggling) during the really good songs.

Without realizing it, he rolled his eyes.

Family. His own had been a failure, but he'd always wondered about having a wife and children, but with the threat of war looming, it seemed like a castle in the air for such a cynical person as he. But if he could walk the knife-edge between the two factions, there was a chance that Severus could take Helene away to a place where this evil couldn't touch them.

Once he learned what she was hiding, of course.

He was just planning.

Not procrastinating.

No, never.


	20. Chapter 20

Next chapter for your reading pleasure, and I promise everything will begin winding up, at least for this part of our happy saga. I can't really say that there is an end in sight, dear readers. Whether that makes you happy or sad, I hope you enjoy the rest of this, and that you tolerate my obnoxiously long delays in publishing chapters. But they're worth it . . . ;)

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* * *

Chapter Twenty**_

The following week brought the day before Christmas Eve, and with it came a rather long note from Isolde's mother, who had left to finish her Christmas shopping and left the four wizards a lengthy missive detailing the specific chores that needed doing in the house and the groceries that needed buying at the market. Isolde read the list off as they ate a light breakfast of tea and toast, crinkling her nose once she finished.

"In short, we'll probably be working all day, and I still have to wrap most of my gifts," she finished, giving the note to Helene, who quickly scanned it and furrowed her brow.

"Are any of you good with cleaning charms? I never really got a chance to learn any, myself," she said.

"I should probably go to the market, if that's all right with everyone," Isolde said quickly. "I know it well and if Helene came too, we could be done twice as fast." She looked askance at Hermione, who nodded.

"I've done this sort of thing loads of times. You two can handle the house," she said reassuringly. Her words did nothing to dispel the look of disbelief on Severus's face and the confusion on Sirius's.

"But—" Sirius began.

"No buts," Isolde said firmly. "You two can bond."

"Me? With him?" Severus asked, gesticulating wildly.

"Yes. Isolde and I have been talking, and we think it will be good for the both of you," Hermione said. "We're not expecting you to be best friends or anything . . ."

"The fact that you two can tolerate each other is a good start," Isolde added.

"But we still feel that you two are awfully cold," Hermione finished, wondering if this little experience could change the future relationship between Severus and Sirius. They were always so hostile at Grimmuald, but she certainly wasn't meant to be in the past. Besides, she'd already meddled in time; in for a Knut, in for a Galleon.

"Severus, it wasn't Sirius who tried to kill you by luring you down to the Willow," Isolde said gently. "That was Pettigrew's plan."

"And Sirius, Severus had the right to defend himself," Hermione continued. "With you and James, it was always an unfair fight in your favor."

Both boys had the grace to look guilty, and as they hung their heads, Isolde gripped Hermione's arm and pulled her into a tandem Apparition, leaving the two sullen wizards with a table full of dirty dishes and a string of swear words in the air. Once the two had finished shouting about Merlin and hairy balls and the like, Sirius gave Severus a deep, soulful look.

"For what it's worth Severus," Sirius said, hesitating on the name, "I am sorry."

Severus gripped Sirius's arm tightly. "Do you mean it?"

Sirius nodded and mirrored Severus, gripping the other boy's arm in a show of solidarity.

Severus relaxed, smiling slightly. "Then perhaps we can . . . bond." The amount of derision carefully poured into the last word made Sirius roar with laughter until the boys looked back at the list Donna had made, at which point, they rolled up their sleeves, and, with a bit more swearing on both parts, began their foolish wand-waving to clean the house.

* * *

Isolde and Hermione were faring a bit better, but not by much. They had gotten the pantry staples that were a necessity on any trip to a market, like bread and milk, but there was also the rack of lamb and mint jelly and things for Christmas dinner. There were the potato medallions that were a family favorite, and some sort of something for a vegetable and a dessert, and while Isolde and Hermione knew what they needed to buy and where to find it, their progress was greatly slowed by the numerous people she had been forced to chat with along the way: old teachers, students from her primary school, her doctor whom she now rarely saw, thanks to the wonders of healing potions.

She returned to a chortling Hermione with a grimace on her face, grousing, "I hate living in a small town. God, when did I become everybody's business?"

Hermione laughed fully as she bagged a fresh sprig of parsley and put it in her basket. "I suppose you're just exciting, darling," she drawled.

Isolde groaned. "What do you say we get this wrapped up and, simply because we'll only have to cook and clean up again afterwards, get lunch for ourselves and the boys?"

Hermione agreed, scampering off to the baking aisle for some ingredients for an easy-to-make dessert for Christmas Eve dinner as well as some for a tart that Isolde considered a specialty of hers. Isolde picked out a beautiful rack of lamb with the help of a slightly lecherous, albeit grandfatherly, butcher; she also picked up a goose her mother had requested as a special order, placing them both in the rather heavy basket with a slight shudder. Hermione had already gotten everything she needed for the two desserts into her basket, groceries in hand; the girls proceeded to the check-out, shrinking their purchases once they got to a private enough location and Apparating to a fish-and-chip shop.

* * *

Isolde and Hermione approached the house with trepidation, as both were incredibly uncertain as to what, precisely, they would find in the house. It would either go incredibly well, or the house would be completely destroyed inside, Hermione supposed, reaching one hand to the door knob, her wrist loaded with bags, as Isolde struggled with the four orders of fish, chips, mushy peas and cold sodas, as well as most of the groceries, as some things simply couldn't be shrunk.

Hermione held the door open as Isolde bustled in with the groceries, a James Brown record blasting from one of the rooms. The two girls systematically put the food away, beginning with the perishables, wondering aloud where the boys had gotten to, getting louder and more obvious as the conversation went on.

"'Lene," Isolde said loudly, trying to drown out the soulful tones of James Brown and failing, "who do you think would have lasted longer if it came to a head? Sirius or Sev?"

"Dunno," Hermione said, shuffling things around in the icebox to make space for the extra food. "Could be either one. I've never dueled them."

Their conversation was cut short by the beginning of Hermione's favorite James Brown song, "I Feel Good." "I love this song!" she squealed, swinging her hips to the music.

"Care for a dance, then, beautiful?" Isolde said, bowing for a moment and offering her hand. Hermione took it giggling, before they broke into a neat little dance that had been made up on the spot. They sang along with the Father of Soul, stopping only when Isolde caught sight of the boys.

Sirius was sliding across the floor in his socks, wearing his shirt and a pair of boxers as Severus followed, dancing rather expertly, his partner a broom. It should also be noted that as Sirius slid across the kitchen floor (eventually crashing into the table), he sang into a hair brush. Hermione had been swept into a dip, and was promptly dropped, mainly due to her friend's surprise, landing with a thud and rubbing her head as she stood.

"What the hell was—" she began, interrupted by Isolde's peals of laughter as she doubled over against the counter. Hermione then caught sight of the boys, one frozen and blushing and dropping his dance partner like a hot potato or, in Sirius's case, crashing into the table and landing on his bum with a gobsmacked expression on his face.

Hermione struggled for words for a few long minutes, eventually saying, as close to deadpan as she could manage, "Zelda, I think they've bonded."

"I can't think of a better word to describe it, although I wish I had the video camera," Isolde said wistfully, watching Sirius and Severus try to maintain their dignity. She had already cast Warming Charms over their fish and chips and Cooling Charms over the bottles of soda, setting them on the table. "We picked up fish and chips for lunch. I hope you don't mind."

Sirius squeezed her shoulder as he went to sit down, taking his place next to her as Severus sat next to Hermione. "Not at all, love," he said, pulling a packet of newspaper towards him and opening it with a crocodile-like smile. They dug in happily, tossing everything in the bin once they were finished eating. Their hunger sated, they tossed themselves onto the pile of blankets and pillows they made in Isolde's basement bedroom.

"Dare I ask what you actually got done today?" Hermione said, stretching languorously.

"I think most of the house is done, except the bedrooms, for obvious reasons. All we had to do was charm the feather duster and levitate the knick-knacks. The broom swept the kitchen floor and the mop took care of the rest before we dried that off. House cleaning isn't hard once you're of age," Severus said, rolling his eyes.

"Right. What do we need to do later, then?" Isolde asked, resting against the wall.

"Well," Sirius said slowly, "we should probably clean up in here a bit. And I couldn't figure out how to work the vacuum-thingy."

"I still need to get my gifts wrapped, too," Isolde said, thinking aloud. The rest of the group agreed, and Hermione come up with a "battle-plan," as she called it.

"I'll vacuum the carpets while you two," she said, indicating the boys, "wrap your gifts. Isolde, maybe you could make some Christmas biscuits?"

She nodded. "Sounds good. Then, we switch off, yes?"

Hermione grinned. "Precisely. You boys can work an oven, can't you?"

"Only if we can eat some of the biscuits," Sirius said, looking at Isolde for confirmation. She rolled her eyes and grinned.

"Why else would we be making them? I, for one, intend to gorge myself on biscuits. We can decorate them too, if you like. We picked up a few things for biscuit-making at the market today."

Isolde stood. "C'mon 'Lene. We should let them get started." She helped Hermione up and the two went upstairs, to the kitchen as Severus and Sirius continued to sit on the pillows, glancing at one another with trepidation.

"I'll help you if you give me a hand, mate," Sirius said, Summoning the gifts he'd bought from his trunk.

"Deal," said Severus, doing the same. "I usually just give gifts in the parchment, but that won't work anymore, will it?"

"Nope," Sirius agreed. "We've got very classy birds on our hands now, Sev. We can't just do as we've always done, I guess."

"It doesn't bother me at all, really," Severus said thoughtfully.

"Nor me," Sirius said, fingering his gift for Isolde. "I'm not bothered at all."

* * *

Isolde took a deep breath, enjoying the spice that hung in the air as she turned the page of her book, having already micro-cleaned the kitchen. The soft whir of the vacuum come from upstairs as Helene finished up the house cleaning. Then the timer pinged and the cookies were whisked out of the oven and set down on the stove's burners to cool as another sheet went in, a dozen little men and women waiting to turn a nice golden-brown before being iced and eaten. Isolde put the previous batch on a plate once they had cooled enough before returning to the table and picking up the book she had been reading.

She was just to the part where the heroine was declaring her love for a hapless and very much engaged suitor when the timer pinged again. Isolde, with a theatrical sigh, rose to get the biscuits out of the oven, leaving the book open in the seat of her chair. She got new ones onto the sheet and put those in the oven before sneaking a glance around the kitchen and popping a biscuit, fresh and warm and lovely, into her mouth.

"I saw that, you know," a lazy drawl said softly.

"Sev, must you always be so dramatic?" Isolde asked, putting a biscuit on a napkin and offering it to him. He took it, his eyes fluttering closed as he ate it. "What do you think? I was afraid they'd burn."

"They're fantastic, Zelda. You really are self-deprecating," he said, taking another bite.

"This coming from you?" she asked doubtfully. "Pot, meet Kettle. Now we can call each other black!"

His eyes rolled. "Sweet Merlin, you think you're so clever, don't you?"

"Doesn't that contradict the self-deprecating thing?" she asked innocently as he groaned, defeated. "Either way, are you finished?"

"Yes. I think Sirius is still working though," he replied.

"Well, I shouldn't disturb him. I prefer surprises, really. When it comes to presents, anyway," she said, moving the fresh batch from the baking sheet to the plate.

Severus chuckled, striding to the table and picking up her book. "Gone With the Wind, Zelda, really? I thought you had better taste than that," he joked.

"I considered it rather appropriate. Another family of Muggles was killed yesterday, along with the Prewett brothers; it's in the paper. Life as we know it is coming to an end, I think, and it will be sooner than we dare to hope."

"What do you know?" he asked, concerned. Severus scoffed at Divination, but he trusted Isolde. She was his second friend, and Helene, his second love.

"I can't really say I know anything. It's the future, and it's going to make us guess at it. Even prophecy is nothing more than woolly guess-work once you get down to it. Who knows what's true? I just . . . get the feeling that everything is going to change soon, and not all of it for the better. You know just as well as I that we've been sheltered all these years . . . you don't know what's what or who's who and what's around the corner and whether it'll kill you and your family or let you live out in the real world."

"Isn't that a bit melodramatic, Isolde?" Severus asked, certain he didn't like where this conversation would head.

"You know it isn't. I know who you used to hang on to, even if you were never really part of the group, and I can only imagine what they're planning. I just . . . I don't trust them or like it," she finished lamely.

"I don't know if I can trust Helene, you know," he said sullenly.

"What do you mean?"

"She lied to me about everything in her past, and I don't know why and I don't like it . . . "

"But you love her," Isolde reminded him. "Don't let your paranoia destroy what you have. You've never been so happy, not even with Evans, for all that means. Helene . . . respects you, and she loves you the same way. There's something odd about her, but I don't think that it's anything too insane. Just wait until it's the right moment. You'll know it."

He sighed. "You'd better be right."

"Knowing her, she probably is," Sirius said jovially, coming up from the basement. "You and Helene can head downstairs, if you like. How long do the biscuits take in the oven?"

"Ten minutes or so, sometimes longer, sometimes shorter, but I think you two can handle it," Isolde said, showing him how to set the timer as she pulled another batch from the oven, shaking her slightly burned hand. She'd forgotten the oven mitt that time and ran her hand under lukewarm water for a minute, gritting her teeth.

Sirius waved his wand over her hand as the water flowed over the burn, and the magic healed the burn. Isolde blushed. "You are a witch, you know," he said lightly, pocketing his wand again and shooing her down to her bedroom. "Go wrap your gifts, all right? Helene will be down to join you in a moment, and we'll be just fine. After all," he continued, waving the oven mitts triumphantly, "we've got these, and we're not afraid to use them." He gave her bottom a light swat and got glared at for it, smiling impishly as she headed down to the basement, pretending that he hadn't noticed the smile curling her lips.

"How she lets you get away with that sort of thing, I'll never understand," Severus said, chuckling and shaking his head. He got himself a glass of water before sitting at the table, flipping through the day's paper.

"It makes her laugh, and trust me on this, but she needs it more than she lets on. Bit like you, really, only you're way bitterer about life," Sirius countered. "She's just a bit better at letting it out, in the end."

"Whatever you say, Sirius," he said, rolling his eyes, searching through the front pages for the article about the Muggle family that had been killed. Isolde was a bit self-deprecating, as he'd pointed out earlier in the day, but that was nothing, really. He was the same way after all, and nothing too terrible had ever come of it in the end, even if Helene was convinced he would be a Death Eater.

* * *

It would have been a wasted conversation had Hermione not been walking to the basement, just within earshot to hear everything the two had said. Acting as naturally as she could, and, just as the others had, swiping a biscuit on the way, she joined Isolde in gift-wrapping, using the time to subtly question her about her "self-deprecation," as Severus called it, ever formal. It was a good start to find the information she needed about Isolde and whether or not she had a tendency for self-mutilation to support the suicide theory.

Isolde was quickly taking care of the gifts she'd bought for James, Remus, Peter and Lily, as she would have to Floo or owl them to James's house. Hermione took a seat next to her once she'd pulled out her gifts, laying the brown-paper wrapped cloak she'd gotten for Severus in front of her, tapping the paper with her wand to turn it a pleasant shade of blue.

As she tried to choose a good color for the ribbon, Hermione said, "Sirius thinks you're a bit . . . melancholy, you know, Zelda."

Isolde laughed softly, attaching a nametag to each gift. "He is right, in a way, but he knows when I need a laugh and when I don't." She flushed lightly. "Did I ever tell you about him in the Hospital Wing after I fell from that tree?"

"No," Hermione said, smiling as she changed the color of the ribbon to silver and white, "what was he like?"

"Well, that time, he insisted on staying with me until Madam Pomfrey could assure him that I would be perfectly all right, even making her push our beds together so that he'd always be there, and he missed the second night of the full moon for me. After my first full moon, he wouldn't transform from his Animagus form until I did . . . he's very protective, and I know that I'm a bit more independent than most, but that's why I like it, really," Isolde said, adding a pattern of black stripes to the box holding Severus's new dagger.

"You know, I stopped by to see you on your birthday after, well . . . you know, to say hello and check on you, but Madam Pomfrey said you couldn't have more than one visitor, as you were sleeping and all, and that someone was already in with you. Severus actually chased him away at one point while you were being taken there, 'cause he was sure that Sirius was only there to hex him while his back was turned." Hermione rolled her eyes and Isolde gave her a look that clearly told her that she shouldn't have expected anything less.

But then her face changed. "'Lene, can you keep a secret?"

Hermione nodded, trying not to appear too eager.

"That time I—for lack of a better word—glowed in the Great Hall in front of everyone wasn't the first time I've ever done that," she said, fingering the fiery ring on the chain around her neck.

Hermione gasped. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I didn't know that I glowed the night I fell from the tree!" Isolde shrieked, covering her mouth afterwards and praying that the sound hadn't travelled upstairs. Hermione motioned for her to continue, and she did, saying, "Sirius told me later that he thought I'd died until he saw the glow, and then I was breathing again. I fell from that tall tree and hit my head on a rock . . ." She trailed off.

Hermione, desperate to hear more, said, almost manically, "And the first time? Tell me about that."

"I was little. It was the summer after I was adopted, so I was two, maybe three, seeing as I don't know my birthday. There was a pool party, and I just fell in—no fuss, no dramatics or splashing. It was a few minutes before they realized, but Doc jumped in as soon as he saw me, never mind that he was in his clothes, shoes and all. That was the first time I glowed, but it was attributed to a trick of the light until the following evening, when Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall showed up and explained almost everything, except . . ."

"Why you glow," Hermione finished with a spark in her eye after putting together another few pieces of the puzzle. "Zelda," she said suddenly, "can I see your ring?" Isolde looked hesitant, looping the chain over her neck and running it through her fingers. "Just for a minute, I promise."

Isolde handed her the necklace, watching Hermione's every move with the eye of a hawk . . . or a jackal, Hermione supposed, but the expression simply didn't fall easily from the tongue. She pored over it, marveling at the depth of color of the stone: deep red, flecked through with what seemed like sparks of a deeper, blood-like red. Her mind flicked through her near-encyclopedic memory, trying to dredge up whatever she knew about magical gems. Though she hadn't learned anything from the library when she'd first researched the subject, Hermione knew that she had to know something about it; it was just a feeling.

"Can I have that back? I-I don't like being apart from it," Isolde said, snatching it back. "It's nothing against you," she continued, putting it around her neck. "I just don't like it being far away from me."

Hermione barely listened, racing to finish her gift-wrapping before she lost the wild train of thought her mind was riding. Once she had finally charmed the last bow onto the last gift, she pulled her Arithmancy journal and a self-inking quill out and, telling Isolde that she wished to write in her diary, shut the curtains and began working, scribbling feverishly and listening with slight amusement as Isolde coerced the boys into decorating gingerbread men.

* * *

Severus came downstairs a bit later, giving the excuse that, as the biscuits were finished, she ought to have one, which, he added a bit proudly, he had decorated himself. He presented it to her on a napkin, and her heart melted as she saw the four letters, written in green icing:

SS + HF.

"My closet romantic," she sighed, taking a bite. Hermione also, very carefully, nudged her journal closed as Severus joined her, collapsing on the bed and folding his hands behind his head as Hermione snuggled closer once she'd finished her gingerbread, her head at his chest. Hermione, until this moment, hadn't realized that she was so tired, falling asleep on Severus's chest as he covered them both with the blankets, kissing the top of her head before he wrapped his arms around her, a smile on his face as he dreamed about the future, both napping peacefully until dinner.


	21. Chapter 21

Sorry about the delay, but I can promise it was for good reason: I have a wonderful new beta reader, better known as tricia2475, and we've been getting everything taken care of. Happy Christmas, and expect the next chapter on Christmas Eve.

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* * *

Chapter Twenty-One**_

The next day was Christmas Eve, and it dawned with a blanket of virgin snow on the ground, as Sirius was delighted to see when he woke, as his usual routine was to go and use the loo immediately, especially as he was sharing a bed with a surprisingly timid girlfriend; a morning stiffy simply wouldn't do. When he saw the untouched snow, he darted back with glee, parting the curtains surrounding the bed he and Isolde shared, jumping atop her and tickling her sides until she woke, her eyes wide.

"Good morning to you, too, Sirius," she said, accepting a deep kiss from him with a smile. Once their lips had parted, Isolde asked, breathless, "Dare I ask what's happened?"

"Snow happened! It snowed and it's got to be more than a few centimeters and I want to go outside to play in it! Please, please, please, please," he begged, kissing her face to accent each plea.

"Of course, Puppy," she said. "I hate to think what you would do otherwise."

"Convince you, of course," Sirius said cockily, kissing her again, parting his lips and ravishing her mouth, thrusting his tongue in and out of her mouth in a suggestive pantomime. Once it became difficult for him to breathe as well, he began pressing kisses down her neck to her shoulder, leaving a tiny bite on her collarbone as her fingers twined in her hair. If this was simply snogging Sirius Black, Isolde could only imagine how good it would be to shag him.

She cleared her throat, but Isolde still sounded hoarse as she said, "I'd say you have me convinced. Shall we try to wake up 'Lene and Severus, or let them have a lie-in?"

He gave her a roguish wink. "I think that you and I can keep ourselves entertained for a bit, don't you think?"

"Not like that, we won't. Doc's home grading, Mum will be getting a few last-minute things done around the house and Matt will be home, and he'll probably want to come outside with us for a bit as well. But it could be fun to run around a bit as canines, don't you think?"she asked, shifting carefully into a jackal and licking his cheek.

He followed suit, darting after her as she ran up the stairs, barking happily as they bounded out into the snow, frolicking happily and play-fighting as dogs tend to do. Sirius, being the larger of the two, had the advantage in size and strength, but Isolde was a scrappy fighter in her Animagus form, and far more agile besides, making the game an even one. Snow tangled and matted their fur, and, to their sheer delight, the sky was ironclad, a sign that there would be more to come. It flurried a little, making Sirius seem to go gray until he shook the flakes off in horror as Isolde rolled onto her back, her barks sounding more like raucous laughter.

With a rough growl, he loped over and nipped at her ear, soothing the gentle bite with a few licks as she whined lightly, burrowing in his soft, black fur. Then, suddenly, she turned on him, pouncing like lightning and tipping him over to his back, savoring the moment before leaping off him and darting back to the house, using a charm to slide the back door open, closing it again before he got inside as well.

Isolde changed back into her normal self, wrapping a blanket around herself and lighting a fire with her wand when she felt the sudden snap of cold. Then, once she had turned on a kettle for hot chocolate, she turned back to the dog at the door, opening it slightly and saying, "Shake yourself off outside, and then you can come in. I've got some hot chocolate on and we can heat some scones Mum put in the freezer for breakfast."

Sirius changed back, shirtless and shivering, even with the Drying Charm, and Isolde shared her blanket with him once the kettle had whistled and the scones were done, bringing over two mugs of hot cocoa and a plate of scones and biscuits for them to share as they watched the fire together, curled up together on the long sofa, the firelight bouncing off the ornaments on the Christmas tree.

"Sirius," Isolde said, taking a sip from her cocoa, "do you ever miss your family?"

"I miss Reggie," he said wistfully, his eyes darkening and his voice low. "We used to have fun together, and I was never really jealous of him for being their favorite. I could slip between the cracks then. I couldn't even tell you if Mum was at all surprised when I ran away. The Potters are my family now. I couldn't hurt them, ever." He took a vicious bite of his gingerbread man, chewing it slowly.

"I always wondered who my parents were," Isolde said. "I used to imagine that they were great people—brilliant scholars or glamorous actors or daring adventurers, but then sometimes it felt like they just didn't want me because I was a burden. Or else they're dead, and I couldn't stand to think about that either. You're as much an orphan as I am, in a way. We're just lucky we both got adopted."

"But you didn't choose to leave," Sirius whispered. "I did, and if anything happens to Regulus, no matter how much of a little toe-rag he might be now, I don't know if I could live with myself."

And, together over hot chocolate, scones and biscuits, two orphans mourned the loss of their first parents and celebrated the way they had found their new family.

* * *

Hermione was shaken awake by a startled looking Severus. Her eyes were dazed, his penetrating and worried. She took a long, deep breath, calming herself down for a moment as she tried to remember.

Giving her a moment to collect herself, Severus asked, "What did you dream?"

"It's all so fuzzy, really. It's dark and the floor was black and white, but I could hardly see it. Then, the statues started to attack me, and I tried to run away, but I was stopped by a bunch of flying things . . . I couldn't tell what they were. Then, someone (she didn't mention that it had been Severus as Professor Snape) shoved a potions vial down my throat, and it hurt so badly—like it was burning me from the inside out. I tried to fly away, but there was something holding me back and I was so scared, Severus. I thought I was going to die."

Hermione threw herself into his arms, shuddering and crying into his warm shoulder as he braved the tangles of her bed-head and stroked her hair, murmuring to her with his voice at its silkiest.

"I want to know what it means more than anything else. I just can't remember enough and I certainly didn't take Divination long enough to learn about dreams and symbolism," she said, calming down slowly, due in large part to the hands running through her messy hair and the soft voice caressing her ear.

"Zelda is taking her N.E.W.T. in Divination. You can simply ask her," Severus said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Hermione pressed a hand to his chest, and he tilted her head to meet her lips with his, tender and sweet in his kiss. Severus wrapped his arms around her, running his hands under her shirt and savoring the feel of her soft skin against the calluses he had earned by brewing potions for his classmates when he needed a bit of pocket money. Her hands delved into his hair, running the strands through her fingers.

It was odd hair, really, blue-black where Sirius's was brown-black. It was long and a little limp and he had gotten himself into the habit of running his hands through it when he was thinking about something, and the oils from his hands and from potions residue made it appear greasy and slick. It was not quite fine, but nor was it coarse; he combed it often. Soft layers framed his pale face, made paler by the deep jet of his hair and the tunnels that were his eyes. There were some slight similarities between him and the boy with whom he was forming a tentative friendship, but it was the differences in the similarities that were surprising.

Sirius and Severus both had beautiful, black hair, worn a bit longer than most and nearly straight, with a light wave that seemed little more than an afterthought in their hair, though it was far more prominent in Sirius than in Severus's, so heavy and limp. Severus's hair seemed almost blue in its cold darkness, while Sirius's hair was warmer, casually elegant as it fell in his eye or across his face, and far finer in texture, though its color seemed just as deep from far away.

Their eyes were brooding and penetrating and deep, framed by dark, full lashes; both were shades of black. Severus's were pure ebony, absolute and certain in their color. There was a dark passion in them as well, something Hermione had never really seen in the eyes of the Potions Master until now. Sirius had indeterminate grey eyes, a trait of most of the Black family. They were able to shift from the palest grey of a Patronus to the deep grey of a storm, and every shade in between. They were bright and striking as were Severus's, but they were approachable—friendly in a way that Severus's weren't.

Then there was their skin: both were pale. Severus was almost seemed sallow at times, but he was almost like a statue of alabaster, nearly unblemished entirely with the exception of a few pale scars given him by his lout of a father and a small birthmark on his back. His misfortune was due to the coloring of his hair and eyes; the dark of his hair and eyes washed him out, and he was not one to go seek solace in sunlight. Sirius was a pale olive, which complemented his coloring and he enjoyed spending time outside, being a bit more of an active person. The juxtaposition between the two was no less striking than the contrast between the girls they loved.

Their hair was an easy difference to spot. Hermione was still learning to tame hers with heavy, pearlescent shampoos and conditioners that she merely left in. She rarely plaited it anymore, discovering that, after spending a night in a braid, it would only be . . . bigger when she took it out. In the end, it was much easier to tie it back with a headband or scarf, giving her a rather bohemian sort of look, especially as it was a rich, full brown, vibrant and filled with different colors that one could only see close up. Isolde had hair that looked like spun gold, vivid and bright; it almost seemed red in the right light. Hers was stick-straight, but it was full and fine, though it only just covered her shoulders.

It was their eyes that would reveal more about them than anything else. Hermione's eyes were an earthy brown, flecked around the pupil with gold and amber. They were constant and open, baring more of her secrets than she knew when she wasn't careful. Despite their warmth and comfort, they could be colder than ice when she was angry with someone, and they could flash beautifully when she was passionate. Isolde's were obviously striking: dark red, flecked with red of all shades. They could turn a near-black when she was upset or depressed, and when she was feeling alive and excited, they were a flame-like scarlet—phoenix-like. Her eyes were nearly indecipherable; who needed to learn how to decode the emotions hidden within red eyes on a daily basis? It was something she gladly used to her advantage.

Hermione was warm in her skin tone as well: pale, but not extraordinarily so. There was a pretty sprinkle of freckles across her nose that Severus enjoyed counting when he could, always careful not to miss a single one. He also loved to watch her blush; the color would run into her soft cheeks and down her neck, and it gave him more of an excuse to kiss her there. Isolde was the palest of them, though she wasn't sallow, as she too enjoyed reading and writing and doing homework outside in the sun. She was entirely unblemished but for the crescent slash on her side that she would always associate with her first full moon.

They were an odd bunch, in the end, but what family (for in their hearts, it was so) isn't? It was almost laughable to see them together: Hermione the bright Earth mother with a comforting face and gentle movements, Severus with his forbidding black and deep voice and sharp tongue, Sirius with a youthful exuberance that could put a child to shame were it not for the pale taint of sadness and anger, and Isolde, an intense near-punk with eccentricities and crazy habits that made her seem endearing instead of insane.

None of this was running through Hermione's mind or Severus's mind as they kissed, her hands in his hair and his moving over the ridge of her back. It wasn't something that was obvious to them at all, but it was there, whether they liked it or not.

* * *

Sirius left Isolde after a bit, having dozed off a while together once the conversation had lulled. He gave her cheek a kiss and went for a shower, flicking his wand to clean the breakfast things before he went. To their credit, Doc and Matt, who were eating their own breakfast in the kitchen, showed no signs of surprise, only longing on their parts that Isolde was home more often to do the dishes.

Isolde strode into the kitchen at that, pointing at the dishwasher, reminding them, "Those do dishes as well, you know. Besides, I've only another term left, and after that I'm probably out of here. I love you and all, but I can't imagine staying here for long after school ends. I will visit, though."

Matt ruffled her hair, threatening her with bodily harm and numerous phone calls if she didn't come home weekly for supper as Doc groaned. "I think I'm old, kids."

"Ah, Doc, don't get like that. At least you aren't staring down the barrel of your future," Isolde said, giving her father a one-armed hug. "It's better than living with your parents."

Matt stuck his tongue out at her before laughing. "We can't all lead charmed lives, pun intended," he said with a guffaw. He took a bite of his eggs. "You busy during the day today, Isolde?"

"I know Sirius is planning something for that snow later," she said with a grin.

"Just avoid the yellow patches," Doc advised. "There were a few raucous dogs outside this morning. I've never seen them before."

Isolde did her best to look innocent, suddenly finding great interest in the economics section of the paper.

"Could you possibly fit in a bit of time to practice for the New Year's Eve party? You know we always play it, and I know you've been working on stuff at school." Matt picked up his glass of juice once he had finished speaking, noting his little sister's blush at the mention of the dogs.

Isolde sighed dramatically. "Fine, but you're leaving your Neanderthal friends out of this for now. I can't stand them most of the time, and I can always charm them to learn the music and sound decent."

Doc raised a brow. "And are you allowed to charm them to learn the music and sound decent?"

"You know I wouldn't do anything like that if it would get me into trouble," she said sweetly, pouring herself a glass of juice from the refrigerator and murmuring, "at least not if I would get caught."

Matt, however, had clearly heard her, responding with, "What was that, little sister?"

"I said, 'I should put out the fire. It's a bit hot.'" She walked past them to the fireplace, extinguishing the blaze with her wand. "Give me a bit of credit, you dodo," Isolde hissed, walking past Matt back to her chair, taking the front pages of the paper and scanning them for any news from the Wizarding World, having learned long ago that neighbors got suspicious of owls swooping at her house every morning without fail. There was nothing so far that she could obviously identify as an attack by Death Eaters, and for that, Isolde could be grateful, slumping back in her chair for a moment before going down to her basement to get dressed, and, as it was nearly half after ten, wake Helene and Severus, a fervent prayer that they were "decent" on her lips.

Unfortunately for her, their little snog had gotten to shirtless proportions, which Severus, blushing and scowling all at once, rectified immediately by putting on a shirt and darting upstairs to catch a quick breakfast. Hermione, fully aware that Isolde had indeed seen a pair of breasts (as most women have), merely went to put on a bra and choose her clothing for the day, a dopey-looking grin on her face as she said, "Zelda, I had the strangest dream last night."

Isolde nodded, but a careful smirk grew on her face. "This is why you look like you've just been taking a rather nice dose of 'shrooms, I suppose?"

Hermione shook her head, the dreamy trance shaken away. "No, and I can only imagine you know how it feels to have taken a rather nice dose of 'shrooms from Sirius?" Isolde flushed, snatching a green flannel button-down from her closet, and promptly changed its color to red, refusing to wear deep greens outside of her uniform; it made her look like bloody Christmas, for Merlin's sake. "I just had this terrible nightmare and I know you're taking Divination. Can you help me?"

"Of course I can. Just tell me everything you can remember, and I'll see what I think it means before we turn to the books, okay? Divination is more about personal interpretation than textbooks anyway."

Hermione began pouring her mind out to her friend, though the wheels of her subconscious continued to turn as she described what she could remember of the dream she'd had . . . the black and white floor, and the killer statues, and the potion that had been shoved down her throat, and the flying—the general fear of not knowing what was around the bend and whether she would live to see tomorrow after facing it. And then, suddenly, it hit her.

Hermione felt like a fool; any idiot could have recognized what it meant as Isolde started to analyze from the beginning, asking more questions about what Hermione had felt and seen and her motives and logic behind her actions. As she flashed the pictures from the dream in her mind, Hermione slowly began to recall the events of the day she, Harry and Ron had ventured beyond the trapdoor guarded by Fluffy, the three-headed dog they'd thankfully not seen hide nor hair of since.

Isolde called her out of her mind, saying, "I think I've got it just about figured out now!"

Hermione was stunned. She couldn't have known Legilimency, could she? If she did, Hermione was royally, majestically, epically fucked.

"The black and white of the floor means that you are trying to move beyond a literal interpretation of the world around you and accept the shades of gray between. Perhaps the statues surrounding you make you feel overwhelmed, which means that you're dealing with numerous problems that could very well be life-or-death in your eyes, and once you think you've escaped them, you've only found a whole different set which were portrayed in your subconscious by flying pests. You ran away from that confrontation, which is a bit surprising, as you tend to come off as rather assertive."

She paused for a moment, giving Hermione a chance to reconcile herself to the fact that Divination that was not taught by Sibyl Trelawney might actually be a worthwhile thing to learn more about.

Then Isolde continued. "Once you've evaded the new set of problems that seem to be coming your way, you'll be confronted with your greatest challenge that will be likely to attack you before you have a chance to avoid it, making you confront yourself head on, and you fear that it will cause you a great deal of pain. You make another attempt to flee, but the problem, whatever it may be, will not let you go, or perhaps you are the problem in this stage of your dream, and you cannot let it go." Isolde took a deep breath, and Hermione was a bit surprised at the general accuracy of the interpretation and the symbolism that a dream about so literal an event could have.

Hermione, after thanking Isolde, who preened for a moment in the gratitude, furrowed her brow, thinking on what such a dream could possibly mean for her to have now. She could feel stirrings that she was on the right path, and while she would have preferred more tangible evidence than a hunch, she had to start somewhere. It was a hunch that had led her to finding out that Slytherin's monster was a basilisk and that Dolores Umbridge would gladly follow her out to the forest if she thought that she would gain a promotion for finding the "weapon" Dumbledore had been building. It had been a hunch that had led them to Nicholas Flamel and the Sorcerer's Stone . . .

The ton of proverbial bricks hit Hermione Granger square in the forehead.

She flashed back to the days the three had spent discussing the Stone and its creator. When asked about the Stone, Harry had said:

_"It was beautiful . . . just this deep warm red, and when I held it, it made me feel like everything was fine, and I didn't want to let it go, especially not to Quirrell or the demon-Voldemort-thing he had sticking out of the back of his head. I saw it at Gringotts as well, you know, when Hagrid was taking it to Hogwarts to be protected. It was nothing more than this grubby little package that was guarded by the most elaborate protections . . . the bank was robbed later that day, if you recall. We thought that they were going after the Stone . . ."_

Hermione immediately wrote the finding in her journal, Isolde shrugging as she went upstairs. She, just as Harry and Ron would, had gotten used to her friend's bursts of research and writing and whatnot. With another amused glance back at Hermione, now sprawled across her bed wearing naught but her knickers, a bra and a shirt, Isolde went upstairs, her guitar and music box in hand.

* * *

It wasn't until Severus came down, bearing a sandwich and a tall glass of water that Hermione realized how long she must have been working. She pulled on a skirt and took the sandwich, taking a large bite after she'd inquired about the time.

"It's half-past two. Zelda and Sirius want to go out and . . . play in the snow, though from what Doc said, there were two dogs outside earlier, so we should watch our step and stay away from the yellow snow."

Hermione sniggered at Doc's unintended joke, though the way he talked about playing in the snow made it seem like a euphemism for hours upon hours of disco music at full volume or a particularly fluffy petting zoo.

"Can I take a look at that?" Severus asked, eying her Arithmancy work with interest. He reached for her book, but she clutched it to her chest, hugging it with both hands. He looked a bit hurt. "I wasn't going to steal it, you know," he snapped. "I just wanted to take a look at it. I get the feeling that there's so much you aren't telling me, and I don't know why." He crossed his arms, remembering the accusing black ink declaring him a Death Eater.

Hermione swallowed the last bite of her sandwich before resting her head on his shoulder. "It's not that I don't trust you, Severus. I love you far more than I dreamed I could love someone. I just . . . I'm private with my work, just as you are with your potions. There are some things that I need to keep to myself. Don't you understand? I know you haven't told me everything, and I don't expect you to. Just trust me when I say I love you."

* * *

Isolde and Sirius had coaxed them into a snowball fight later, Matt joining in once he realized what they were up to. The five happy youths were called in after nearly two and a half hours of non-stop combat, their cheeks flushed and their eyes alight with joy and spirit. They all got into clean, dry clothes and had a cup of tea to warm themselves up as they watched a Christmas film playing on television while Isolde fixed the tart for their dessert as lamb roasted in the oven.

After they'd eaten a huge, heavy Christmas Eve dinner of lamb and potatoes and vegetables and salad and—of course—dessert, the lot of them settled in the living room where stood the Christmas tree, a small pile of gifts already waiting. Donna feigned surprise.

"Goodness me! I believe Santa must have already come." She handed a gift to each of them, wrapped in red paper. Isolde and Matt shared a smile, knowing what was in the boxes before opening them as Sirius, Severus and Hermione looked confused.

"It's tradition," Doc said quietly. "Rosemary, my first wife, and I started it, and we saw no reason to discontinue it."

Matt, Sirius and Severus each pulled out a set of monogrammed, silk pajamas, their initials embroidered over the chest pocket. Matt's were the deep brown of his eyes, while Sirius's were a rich black. Hermione smirked as Severus opened his, finding them to be a charcoal grey. It would be nice to see him in something other than black, even if it was in the same family.

The girls each received a light, floaty sort of night gown—long, sleeveless and with an empire waist. Hermione's was a pale yellow and Isolde's, soft pink. They marveled over them for a moment before spotting the dancer-like night slippers, perfectly matching the gowns that seemed almost too pretty to sleep in.

Once Christmas Eve photographs had been taken and the Frank Sinatra record and the eggnog ran out, Doc and Donna shooed the five teenagers off to bed, not that the four Hogwarts students had much of an intention of sleeping.

Hermione and Severus disappeared immediately into the safety of their four-poster bed after a bit of suspicious whispering that made her flush and made him smirk. With a rather saucy wink, Hermione pulled Severus behind the curtains as Sirius and Isolde echoed, "Imperturbable Charm, please!"

Once sparks had enveloped the bed, signaling the casting of the necessary charms for discretion and comfort of the other party, Isolde took Sirius's hand, squeezing it with a mischievous glint in her eye once their own bed had been properly charmed.

"I think I'd like to get to know you a bit better, Puppy," she said, releasing his hand and entering their four-poster, beckoning him with a smile and a lilting finger.

Sirius, feeling the blood rush out of his head, followed quickly, as would most other men in his situation. Isolde looked like a walking contradiction: her nightdress innocent and sweet while her eyes were tempting and dark—seductive in their own way as her lips curved into a slow smirk it seemed only Slytherins could pull off.

She drew him in for a languorous kiss, her hands twining in his hair as his carefully skirted her bum. When Isolde made no protest, instead pulling him closer as best she could, Sirius swiftly pressed himself into her, grinding their hips together. Isolde gasped.

"Merlin, that's not—"

He gave her a roguish smile before responding. "You better believe it, love."

"Right," she said, feeling embarrassed at her gaffe and the shattering of her temptress alter ego.

Sirius cupped her chin before nipping lightly at her lips. "Philomel, you're in charge right now. We only do what you feel comfortable with for now. I respect that. I don't want to cock this up, you know."

Isolde smiled before cupping him gently, one hand stroking him carefully. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard and whispering, "Just a little harder, Zelda. It's all right."

"Does it feel good?"

"Yes," he moaned, removing her hand and kissing it. Despite the obvious bulge of his pajama pants, Sirius looked her evenly in the eyes. "What can I do for you?" he purred.

Isolde shrugged. "I hadn't thought about it. But I trust you."

His hands went to her shoulders, taking the straps of the nightgown in his hands and sliding them carefully down her arms, baring her body to his hungry eyes. Her breasts were soft handfuls—anything larger wouldn't have looked right—and her skin was unmarred with the exception of the scar that traced down her side from her first full moon. He motioned for her to lay back and relax, bending his head to ghost kisses up and down the line of her scar, ignoring (though making plans for) her breasts.

Once he felt her scar had been worshipped long enough, Sirius pressed a path of kisses north, his hair tickling lightly as he took a nipple in his mouth, his fingers playing with the other. Isolde had, in the past, half-heartedly tweaked at them when she was in the bath, but it had never brought her pleasure the way this was, her eyes slipping closed and her breath shallow and quick. He kept the assault up, switching between the two before sliding a hand down her stomach and into her knickers as she twisted beneath him, her hands clutching his back and his hair.

He found her clit quickly, stroking it as best he could as she mewled and gasped beneath him, and Sirius felt a surge of love unlike any other thus far. He'd never waited for a girl before, and he almost liked the game—the thrill of the chase was still there. Sirius smiled as he felt Isolde shudder and gasp as climax rushed over her, her lips barely parted and ready for the kiss he would bestow upon them, bringing her eyes open as she sighed against him. His finger slipped into her center once more, and Sirius sucked it with deliberation he rarely showed when it came to anything but her. He was a man devoted.

She pushed him back, rolling her eyes as his never left her chest. Breasts, she decided, were the key to power. Carefully, whilst contemplating this line of thought half-heartedly, she unbuttoned his shirt, nibbling at his nipples for a moment (a first for him, and he rather liked it) before making her way to the unknown beneath his pajama pants. Just as carefully as she had with his shirt, she pushed his trousers down, her eyes widening at the way his cock sprang out at her, making her chuckle softly before she was defending herself and placating Sirius as she said, "I wasn't expecting it, was all. It's certainly nothing to do with you, love."

Sirius nodded before settling back against the headboard, Isolde positioning herself next to him. She leaned over him, wrapping a hand around his cock, weeping from the tip, spreading it around the tip of him and over her hand as she brought it down his length and back up, watching as Sirius's entire body seemed to flex. Her hand moved a bit more before her head fell to the head of his cock, soft lips covering the head.

"Philomel," he breathed, watching as her head sank carefully before drawing back up; her hands worked the rest of him. Isolde was deliberately slow, keeping the sweet torture up until he could no longer stand it before allowing him the pleasure of coming, his seed swallowed primly before she wiped her mouth and cleaned them both with an easy charm. It was an inexpert job, but it wasn't anything he noticed, so distracted was he, being post-orgasm and shocked by Isolde's . . . enthusiasm.

Once Sirius had recovered and regained his polysyllabic vocabulary, he turned to Isolde, who was now properly dressed, in amazement. "How the bloody hell did you learn that, Isolde? Not that I mind, you know." He pulled her to his chest, exhausted.

"Helene's talent as a swot does have an up-side, Sirius," she said, yawning a little before pecking at his lips and falling asleep beside him.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty Two**

Severus woke somewhat . . . distracted the following morning, his sleep-dazed mind confronted with a giggling Helene bouncing happily on his lower abdomen and tickling his sides. With a low, rumbling growl, he clutched her sides and flipped her beneath him, pinning her hips with his and letting her feel him above her, waiting. She pecked at his lips before wiggling to get him off her, so eager was she to wake Sirius and Isolde.

They had forgotten about the nightly Imperturbable Charms each couple used to allow the other to be more comfortable. It was with great glee that the two began throwing things at the curtains surrounding the bed in order to weaken and hopefully break the charm. The charm broke when, in a brilliant moment of creativity and genius, Hermione used her wand to throw Severus into the curtains, counting on the fact that he would break through the charm and wind up in the midst of an awkward moment as the sleeping Isolde and Sirius woke up.

Fortunately for him and still relatively comical for her, Severus landed across their laps, his head in Isolde's and his . . . erm, lower body, in Sirius's. The usual morning grogginess that accompanied their normal wake-up routine was conspicuously absent as Sirius took stock of just where Severus had landed, and just what were nearly lined up and—natural for a boy on waking up with an attractive woman in his bed—hard.

With a girlish shriek unbefitting the endowment Isolde had seen the night before, Sirius threw the other boy off the bed and scampered to the headboard, Isolde rolling and tangling in the sheets as she laughed. With an air worthy of the future head of Slytherin house, Hermione watched in perfect deadpan, until Severus scooped her up in his arms, depositing her firmly on the bed with the other two. They each took a good look at one another—Helene with a smug smile, Severus with disheveled hair and a bruise forming on his arm, Sirius still in his safe place at the headboard, and Isolde attempting to free herself from the sheets—and laughed long and loud, especially as a red-faced Sirius offered his apologies.

Severus brushed them off, mock-glaring at his girlfriend who responded with a cheeky, "Consider it an unplanned Christmas gift."

"If I could only return it," Sirius replied wistfully, receiving a light smack from Isolde.

The door to the world upstairs opened, a jovial voice—Matt's—calling, "Do you lot want gifts or not?"

"Oy! Wait for us!" Sirius called, tossing a shrieking Isolde over his shoulder. She waved good-bye as he leapt up the stairs. Severus gave Hermione a speculative look.

"Don't even think about it, mister."

Instead, he took her hand and pressed a kiss to the knuckles, never breaking eye contact. Hermione blushed prettily, her lips quirking into a smile.

"Happy Christmas, Severus."

"Happy Christmas, 'Lene." He cast a nervous glance to the upstairs before pulling her back to the bed. "I'd like to give you your present now, if you don't mind. It's just that it's . . . personal."

Hermione perched lightly on the bed, obeying his order to cover her eyes with her hands as she giggled.

"Open your eyes, Helene." The command was hushed, a silk whisper against her ear. Severus kissed the line of her jaw lightly before lingering a moment over her lips. She felt herself sigh, shuddering as he brushed his lips timidly over hers, waiting for reassurance before he drew her closer and deepened the kiss.

It just felt right.

He could feel her eyelashes against his cheek as he drew away; Severus was down on one knee, and Hermione felt herself beginning to tear up—wondering how she could say no without losing him forever.

"Please, here me out first," he began. "We haven't known each other long and we're still in school and we're young. This isn't a proposal. This is me telling you that because I love you and because this feels right, that someday I will ask you to marry me." He looked stubborn, ready to pitch a fit if her answer wasn't what he expected; it may have been why he told rather than asked. The Severus Snape of the here and now and the Severus Snape of her future were proud creatures.

"Someday I want you to ask me to marry you," she said, sliding from the bed to the floor. Severus joined her, wrapping an arm around her before he opened the box in his hand.

"I sent for it from Gringotts; it's a family ring, and while we don't have much, I wanted you to have this." It was beautiful: a soft gold pearl set in silver, surrounded by swirling filigree. The ring was delicate, light and fragile as he set it on her finger. Severus kissed the hand that bore his ring before smiling gently at her, his eyes warm and intense and comforting all at once.

How could she have said no, damn the consequences when she had to return? No, wait—if she had to return. Hermione was finding herself more and more enveloped in this past—what was supposed to be the past—and she never wanted to leave, if only for him. How was it that three short months had taken her world away and replaced it with something so perfect she couldn't even describe it? Her mind and her body soared with Severus; this boy had taken her professor and made him hers—she didn't love him in spite of him being her strict and often unfair Potions Master, she loved him for it, or she would later.

How frequently she had mocked the teenagers of her world who claimed to be ready to marry and settle down with the first boy they dated! And now, here she was: promised to him after a mere three months, with no knowledge of any sort of future for the two of them, especially not here. Would she be sent back, or would she be forced back? Hermione didn't know. Looking at the ring now sparkling with quiet beauty on her finger, she could only know that for now, she was happy.

* * *

The indignant screech of a barn owl distracted the family as they opened their gifts. "Isolde, would you please take care of him before the neighbors see?" Donna asked, cuddled happily with Doc on the sofa. It really was cute to see them together; Sirius's parents were always fighting—or rather, his mother was always making valiant attempts to pick one.

As if she actually needed motivation to be the raving bitch she was.

Either way, Isolde stumbled back over the discarded wrapping to him. "Seems the (she wrinkled her nose as she said it) Marauders sent their packages for us. Do you have their gifts? We could send the owl back to them. My family hasn't got one."

"Erm . . . I don't know if going downstairs is wise at the moment," Sirius replied, glancing over at the piles for Helene and Severus. They're still downstairs."

"Ah. Right then." Isolde turned to the owl. "Come with me into the kitchen and we'll get you some water and a bit of toast. Do you prefer butter or jam?" Doc looked bemused. "Oh don't give me that look. He deserves bit of something." She sauntered into the kitchen, the owl perched happily on her arm to hoot in her ear.

Sirius, meanwhile, resized the package as Matt crowed in triumph over a eckletric bass guitar—whatever that meant. Carefully, recognizing Lily's persnickety wrapping style as he pulled gift after gift out, making one pile for himself and the other for Isolde-all of them would be opened later.

Isolde returned from the kitchen, happily sitting at Sirius's feet and pulling her last gift from her parents out from under the tree. It was awkwardly wrapped and large enough that she gave up on pulling it, resigning herself to tearing the paper wildly, squealing when she saw the guitar case neatly packaged.

"We didn't want to spoil the surprise," Doc said. "I'll never forget you looking at me when we gave you your last guitar and thanking me profusely before you'd even unwrapped the thing."

Isolde rolled her eyes. "It's not my fault I was a bright child," she sniffed, grinning as she undid the clasps and ran her hands over the smooth leather of the case.

An electric guitar—and a Fender Coronado at that; she'd always wanted one. It was beautiful—old fashioned looking, which suited her well and the weight felt right in her arms as she adjusted the strap. A Les Paul would come later.

Matt loped over for a high-five. He grinned happily at his little sister. "We're going to kick arse this year! I got a new bass."

"Brilliant! Let me know when you and the Neanderthals set up a rehearsal, and I'll get straight on working with this." Isolde rested the guitar in her lap, stroking the wood gently. Carefully, she tucked it back in its case.

"Is that everything?" Donna asked. The room murmured agreement that each and every package had been opened before she continued. "Then I suppose the rest of the day is yours once this place is cleaned up."

Isolde rolled her eyes and whipped out her wand, Sirius doing the same. Donna, Doc and Matt went about piling up their own gifts as Isolde and Sirius Vanished the wrapping and trim from the gifts. That being done, Sirius began to pick up Isolde's gifts, leaving her guitar for her to carry. With one hand, he flung open the basement door, shouting, "Get decent, 'cause we're coming down!"

Isolde followed, taking her guitar with her. "Sirius, there's no need to embarrass them. Besides, they know we've got presents for them."

With one last tender peck, Helene and Severus parted. They scrambled off into the bags they had brought with them, pulling out neatly wrapped packages. The four placed the gifts they had gotten for one another in the center of Isolde's table, Sirius bringing the Marauders' gifts for them as well. Hermione's left hand remained under the table; for now, it was their secret.

They talked and laughed (and after Isolde ran up to fetch food) and ate for a few hours, passing gifts to one another, little exclamations escaping them as they opened presents. The mood was only dulled when Sirius found a curious-looking thing from the other Marauders to Severus that, when opened, proved to be a bar of unused soap and a nasty note. Before Severus even had a moment to fume, Isolde had taken out her wand and incinerated the "gift" as Sirius apologized profusely and Helene took his hand, running his long fingers over her ring.

Matt came down and bugged them later, shooing them onto a plushy couch in their garage so that he could begin to work with Isolde on the new material she had been working on in whatever spare time she had at school. Besides, she always added, an editing ear is always important. And then, of course, there were classic hits they covered, the longest and most painful being "Inna Gadda Da Vida." Isolde's fingers were (in her words) destroyed after the guitar solo, but that was more of a warm up for her to get used to the new instrument; thankfully, they normally only played the short version. The last time they tried the seventeen minute monstrosity, their fingers and voices had been so wasted that that had been their last song for the evening, and it was only seven-thirty, especially as they'd done a few sets before then.

The afternoon passed, becoming night, and after dinner the teenagers were joined by Doc and Donna. Hermione rarely remembered such a tension-free sort of night, especially once Voldemort had been resurrected and whatnot. She was enjoying being a kid, and, ever the quick learner, had learned the intro for "Smoke on the Water," using Isolde's old guitar.

Severus and Hermione decided to turn in early, and fully understanding just what that meant, Isolde and Sirius sat by the fireplace and the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. After a cup of tea and multiple biscuits each, Isolde made Sirius cover his eyes.

"Wait here. I've got something for you." She opened the front hall closet, where she had hidden Sirius's real gift—the one she had given him this afternoon was far less personal. It was a book she knew he'd been eying, whether he'd confess to it or not. This one—well, it wasn't something she could return. Isolde was terrified.

She put the box into his hands. "I really hope you like it. I mean—I couldn't give it to you this afternoon. I wanted it to be just the two of us for this."

If his eyes had been open, they would have widened.

She opened the box in his hands, and his eyes opened out of shock. Soft piano music trickled through the room, and Isolde met his gaze. "I wrote it f-for us. I wrote another one for Severus and Helene, too, for their present, but I wanted this to be just for us."

It was soft and sweet and breathy and heartbreaking all at once, and what was more, it was true. Isolde, a Slytherin by nature, was not one to lay her heart on the line, especially with someone so risky by reputation, if not always by nature.

Her hot breath caressed his ear as she whispered the last line: "I loved you first."

"That's where you're wrong, Zelda," Sirius replied, placing her hands back in her lap. "Now, it's your turn."

He plugged his ears before opening the basement door, rushing over to his things and retrieving her gift. Rushing back upstairs, Sirius quickly controlled himself, feeling his palms begin to sweat and his heart race.

He thrust the box into her hands, feeling her fingers move over his as she accepted it, her smile graceful. She untied the ribbon carefully, Sirius watching intently the entire time. She lifted the mirror from the velvet lining of the box. "It's magic, an heirloom I brought with me when I left home. I have the other. If you know how to use it, you can find me wherever I am, always. It can show you wonderful things. May I show you?"

Isolde nodded, handing him the mirror. "Just speak into it, Zelda. It'll show you what you want to see."

"Show me myself . . . the way Sirius sees me," she whispered to it. "Please."

Something shimmered across the mirror's polished glass, and colors the likes of which Isolde couldn't name mistily swirled in the world beyond the mirror. The blurred image of a girl in a tree began to take shape, her hair flying behind her—fiercely beautiful even as she fell for some immense span of time, her body twisting and arching in the space between her falling and her landing. Then there was his hand caressing the scar on her torso, fingers smoothing over the rough, silvery flesh—her eyes on his in the Great Hall the day she had received the ring.

"Do you like it?" Sirius asked, watching as she placed the mirror back gently in the velvet wrappings in the box.

"It's perfect."

"I have another just like it. I always have it in my bag, so whenever we're apart, we can still use it to communicate and be together.

"If you want, I mean," he amended a moment later, as Isolde threaded her fingers between his. He gazed at the fire for a moment or two before turning to face her. "Do you understand what you saw?"

She tilted her head, looking perplexed. Her brow furrowed lightly, but she said nothing, almost afraid to breathe.

"Everything I've done since . . . I dunno, maybe the day 'Lene showed up and you cursed James and all, well, I wasn't able to stop thinking about you. Ever. Sometimes I feel like I never saw you before then, but I've loved you since. Just ask them—they couldn't stand me until the Halloween Ball because I wouldn't stop talking about you. I couldn't even explain it if you wanted me to, but I've loved you since that day, and I don't really have any intentions to stop."

Isolde took an uneasy breath, her body tense and her eyes suspiciously alight. "You mean that?"

Sirius nodded slowly.

She threw her arms around his neck and he caught her lightly, one of his hands cradling the back of her head. Their foreheads together, it took only a moment to brush their lips together, feeling a jolt of electricity fuel them further, their mouths coming together once more in a way that seemed too personal to put into words. It just was.

When the kiss broke, Sirius pulled a blanket down to cover them as they shared the couch, which would have been much too small for the two of them to be comfortable under any other circumstances. As it was, however, their bodies meshed neatly together, Isolde nestled into Sirius's shoulder, his body covering hers.


	23. Chapter 23

Blackbird Fly

_**Chapter 23**_

"But what should I wear?" Sirius whined, shuffling through the clothes he had packed for the holidays. Severus rolled his eyes.

"Why on Earth does it matter?" Severus drawled. He pulled a black jumper out from his clothes—it was his favorite, soft and warm. It was a secret of his—that love for such warmth and softness; he relished the way it felt against his skin.

"But this is the big one! I've never met the family before, and I've got to make a good impression. I want them to like me," Sirius confessed, tossing a pair of grey trousers and his favorite Converse trainers aside to wear. He just had to find a shirt.

It was New Years' Eve, which meant that it was time for the Chases' annual New Year Party, an affair that went until the wee hours of the morning, and at which Isolde and Matt's band always played. There would be friends and family—Isolde mentioned a great deal of cousins on Donna's side—and while Sirius was very aware of how one should behave at a social gathering, he had never done it as the hostess's boyfriend.

Thankfully, in a gesture that was meant to embrace Isolde's fast-approaching entrance into the Wizarding world and her family's desire to remain a part of her life, an invitation to the party was sent to the Potter house along with Christmas gifts from Isolde and Sirius. While Mr. and Mrs. Potter had declined in lieu of a quiet night together during the holidays (a rarity), James, Lily, Remus and Peter had responded that they would be delighted to attend (so long as they weren't pulled on the bloody stage, that is).

Severus began tugging on a pair of black boots (it wasn't as though he was trying to impress anyone tonight, after all) as Sirius put on his trousers and tied his shoes. Isolde came downstairs as he began digging for a good shirt to wear, chuckling at how image-conscious he was. "Sirius, love, you need to be dressed soon. We've got to set up." She shooed him away from his things, digging through them until she found a red jumper. She tossed it to him, saying, "Red brings out your eyes."

Once he'd tugged it over his head, Isolde began working to clear up the room. "Toss your things in my closet—we use the downstairs for the band, and I certainly can't have beds and all lying about. We've got to have room for people to dance." Quicker than a flick of the wand, Severus, Sirius and Helene's things were sent to Isolde's closet with the promise that they would be found again. The boys Transfigured the beds into sofas as Isolde conjured a nice coffee table for the downstairs seating area they were creating.

Hermione called downstairs. "Umm . . . Zelda, Matt's got the band here and they're anxious to set up. Is everything ready down there?"

"Just about! I think there might still be some biscuits up there if they want any.

"Besides," she added darkly, "it gives us more time to ensure this place is magic-free to the outside observer."

A quick check and the removal of moving photographs, Isolde's magic mirror tucked into her school bag and the bathroom cabinet (filled with various potions) properly locked and warded with a Muggle-Repelling charm, Isolde called back up that, yes, the band could come down to start setting up for the party.

An hour later, the stage was set and Donna brought down a tray of sandwiches while Doc was finishing up his prized meatballs and some of the other nibbles they would be serving that evening—little dessert and appetizer type things. Many of the guests would also be supplying food and drink, and the preparation wasn't far beyond the norm for a large Order meeting in Hermione's normal time.

The Neanderthals, as Isolde affectionately called them, set the stage quickly, the microphones and amps and the drums. There was a drummer, the rhythm guitarist, Matt was the bassist and Isolde sang and played guitar; every so often a keyboardist would join them. Aside from the band, there were groupies—namely, Matt's on-again-off-again girlfriend and a few other friends and significant others.

"So, Izzy," Jeff, the drummer (who now preferred to go by his stage name—Jeffrey Danger) began, "what have you been up to at that weird school of yours?"

Severus raised an eyebrow at the "weird school" crack while Sirius and Hermione could barely keep from laughing when Isolde cringed at the nickname. She responded politely, all things considered, saying, "Well, I would explain it to you, but the ramifications of my doing so could be far-reaching, and I think the school's philosophies and core principles and curriculum would be a bit out of reach."

Matt snorted. "Right, Zelda."

"You know as well as I that it's a bit hard to explain, and you won't get another word out of me," Isolde sniffed. "I did, however, bring some of my mates home."

Introductions were made over cold cut sandwiches and sodas before the band strapped on their instruments and began warming up for the last quarter hour before the party. A few people arrived early, and those in the know went straight for the basement, where a record player had also been set up for the interim between sets for the band. The music for the earlier part of the evening was jazz; the band wouldn't play until eight or so, but there were a few people dancing anyway, and Doc and Donna certainly could cut a rug.

Hermione watched them dancing wistfully, Severus standing with his arms around her. "What is it, love?" he whispered.

"They look so happy," she said, her eyes sparkling. She'd never been happier, not now that Severus had promised her to him someday, but she'd never felt guiltier, knowing that this meant she had taken part of his youth away. He should have been spending his time with another girl, someone who could stay with him.

His hot breath caressed her ear. "We will be. Someday. Soon.

"I love you and you love me. That's the end of the matter as far as I can see."

Her breath hitched. "I wish life were so simple. But I suppose that has to be enough right now."

The band interrupted them, the record player scratching a little as it was turned off. People applauded, and for the first time, they noticed just how crowded the basement had gotten. Sirius sat uncomfortably on the couch, still waiting for the now-late James, Lily, Remus and Peter. A few pretty girls—cousins of Isolde's—sat with him, one of them crossing her legs in a very short skirt to flash a bit of thigh.

"I don't think we've met," the first one said, extending a hand. "I'm Jacqueline."

"Sirius Black," he replied. "Is something wrong with your eye?" He wasn't stupid, he knew she was batting her eyelashes, but he didn't really want to encourage her. Or the others.

"That's such an unusual name," the girl sitting on his other side said. "My name is Cynthia, but you can call me Cindy if you want."

She tried to put her hand on his knee, but he jumped off the couch, grateful to see his friends arrive. James had a possessive arm around Lily, but Remus was already eyeing the room.

"Merlin!" he breathed. "I didn't think there would be so many people here. And the girls . . ." He trailed off, making a crude sort of gesture. Sirius laughed.

"Mate, if you're interested, there are two over there who seem particularly eager for male company." Sirius pointed in their direction, and they waved back at him, smiling. One of them cocked her head and gave Remus the come-hither finger.

"I believe duty calls, then," he said, sauntering over to her and striking up a conversation.

"Behave, Moony!" James called after him, but he was already on the hunt, and it was nice to see shy Remus out of his shell.

Isolde took the stage then and her voice was husky and soft as she began. "I will wait for this moment when our lips collide and almost stop the Earth. You're in my arms tonight."

She caught Hermione's eye, and she caught the message, dragging Severus out onto the dance floor. Her arms twined around his neck, and his went around her lower back, just barely grazing her bum. She ground her hips into his and he smirked as he lowered his lips to hers.

Sirius, meanwhile, watched the couples on the floor, Remus leading Cindy out for a dance. He didn't notice Jacqueline strut towards him with a predatory glint in her eye as he took a drink of the Guinness Peter had brought down from the garage for him.

"Hello again." She trailed her hand down his arm.

"Hey." He drained the rest of the glass, smiling when Isolde winked at him from onstage during a slow song. He loved the way her voice was so husky when she sang, but it still seemed as clear as a bell.

"Great band, huh?" Jacqueline said, turning him towards her and her winning smile. She was exactly the kind of girl he would have gone for before Isolde, her eyes big and blue like hers used to be, and an ample, well-displayed bosom. Her lips were lush and pouty, her hair a soft blonde.

That was how he knew he loved Isolde. He barely spared Jacqueline a thought as she flirted so desperately with him.

"Yeah," he said, paying far more attention to the way Isolde's hips swayed with the beat, even as she was playing. She looked fantastic—a tight black skirt with marvelously torn fishnet stockings, motorcycle boots and a pale blue t-shirt that looked like a bad tuxedo. Her hair was longer and almost shaggy, and there was a cool sheen of sweat on her face.

"It's awfully hot," Jacqueline said, fanning herself a little. Her dress (particularly around the chest area) would have said otherwise to him, but then again, the sleeves of his jumper were at his elbows.

"Happens with such a crowd of people, I guess. Especially with everyone dancing and all." He could see Helene and Severus, and he didn't think he would be so happy to see such love between them. After all, how long had Sirius considered Severus a slimy git? He wasn't so bad after all, Sirius mused, and Helene brings that out of him. Do I do the same for Isolde, or does she do the same for me?

"I was thinking that you and I should go dance."

"Hmm . . . I'm sorry, I was, err, caught up in the music. It's so good, y'know?" That would work as an excuse. Not that he was lying about the music or anything. The beat had picked up, and he liked the tempo—steady and rolling, like a train.

"I fell into a burnin' ring of fire. Down, down, down and the flames went higher," Isolde sang, seeming to look straight at him. Her eyes popped, line with dark kohl; her lips were a deep, entrancing red.

"It's just Johnny Cash. It's not like it's original material or anything."

He looked at her intensely now, finally being drawn into the conversation. He didn't realize it was mainly because Jacqueline had marginalized any of his Zelda's abilities as a musician.

"Most of the stuff she's done so far was original work. Her songs are brilliant! Besides, can you do that?" he asked, motioning to the band.

"I can sing. I just don't sing in front of people," Jacqueline sniffed. "It's not all that hard."

"Can you sing classical things?" When she shook her head, he rolled his eyes. "She's classically trained. I've heard it." It was true. She'd had a voice lesson earlier that week, and he and the other two had sat outside in the hallway, listening to Isolde work through a rather challenging aria she was still perfecting.

"Look, do you want to dance or what? Because I don't want to stand here to talk about Isolde," Jacqueline said. "You're obsessed or something."

The set would be over after the current song, this one a particular favorite of his. She had written it at the top of the Astronomy tower one night when they were together, watching shooting stars. She had been in a dour mood that day when the sexual tension elephant enjoyed capering around them. She was so upset about something she had Seen in Divination (not that Isolde would tell him what it was), and the only thing he felt he could do was be there for her and try to cheer her up. She was like Severus that way; her burden was her burden, dammit, and she would carry it alone. Stupid Slytherins.

"From up here, the city lights burn like a thousand miles of fire, and I'm here to sing this anthem of our dying day," Isolde sang, almost screaming the last two lines to finish the first set. She put her guitar down on its stand before stepping off the little stage, heading straight for Sirius.

He smiled and opened his arms to her. "Brilliant set, Zelda."

Isolde smirked a little when she saw her dear cousin's face—Sirius didn't have a monopoly on the cousin-hating. "Jacqueline," she began, hugging her, "it's lovely to see you. I see you've met Sirius, my boyfriend from school."

"Oh," Jacqueline replied, obviously a bit shocked by the revelation. "I didn't realize. So, have you, erm . . . known each other long?"

Isolde could only hear the catty part of her brain snorting in disbelief, but she smiled and put on a good show for her cousin's sake. When she was finally kind enough to give Jacqueline a way out on the conversation, Sirius leaned down to nuzzle at her neck, saying, "What have you told people about school, for Merlin's sake? She looked at me like I was a freak or something."

Isolde smiled. "Doc said I had been offered a place at a boarding school—very selective—and that I would only be home for the holidays and summers. It was either that I was really smart or talented or something or that I was emotionally disturbed. You decide."

He snorted. "Good to know." He looked up to see Remus in deep conversation with Cindy. "Does she know?" Sirius asked, motioning to them.

"Probably. But I think Remus can play it cool and change her mind. Funny, I wouldn't have pegged her for his type."

"Ah, but Isolde, my love, who can say with these things?" His arms closed around her waist, and she caressed his cheek.

"No. I suppose no one can. I don't think anyone saw us coming. I didn't." At the confused look on his face, she continued, blushing. "I just never thought you would go for someone like me. Don't get me wrong here, I'm thrilled you did, but I wouldn't have seen it coming the way you saw James and Lily or the way I saw Severus and Helene. Probably the best damn surprise I ever got."

"Do you know what made me attracted to you in the first place?" he asked, whispering in her ear. She shook her head.

"It was the way you stuck up for Severus. Your spirit. The way your eyes flashed when you were angry. Then, you in the woods . . . I had to know more."

She smiled, and in a rare moment, she captured his lips with hers, and he could feel her smiling as they kissed.

Hermione and Severus stayed with one another. He didn't like to let her go—to watch her walk away, and he could be awfully jealous when she was gone. Tonight, he felt like he couldn't take his eyes off her—the way her dress moved over her smooth body and her soft curves. It didn't feel like he had known her for so short a time, or else he wouldn't have done anything as foolhardy as he had on Christmas. Rather, it was more like she had known him, somehow able to intuit his pet peeves and his bad habits. Helene knew him far better than he knew her—and that was okay.

He didn't know how, but that was okay.

Desperately—somehow—he wanted to trust her.

Badly.

"I'm going to get myself a drink. Would you like one?" Helene asked, her hand trailing down his arm and her eyes meeting his, falsely innocent.

Severus nodded, mute—suddenly shy.

He very closely watched Helene walk away, deciding as her hips swayed that high heels were a very good thing indeed. Unfortunately, he got caught.

"Merlin, Severus, see anything you like?" Lily teased, unfazed by the withering glare he sent her way.

"She's my bloody girlfriend, and I'm not the only one who enjoyed it," he retorted, casting a meaningful glance at James.

"I was only joking, Severus. Remember how I did that?" she said easily as James drifted over to Isolde and Sirius. Lily rolled her eyes as they found the wonders of Pop Rocks and Coke, James's eyes wide at the tingling sensation on his tongue, Sirius guffawing loudly at the sight.

Severus looked confused. Lily explained the matter, saying, "Urban legend says that if you mix Pop Rocks and soda, it'll explode. Sometimes I wish it were true."

Severus snorted. "Of course it wouldn't be that easy." Sirius had just tried the combination and was currently giggling hysterically before kissing Isolde enthusiastically to "share the sensation."

"They are cute, though," Lily said wistfully. Severus merely grunted, and she continued unabashed. "Think about it, Sev. With all the tension and the murders and everything that's been going on, it's nice to see that Gryffindors and Slytherins can still get along, y'know? I mean, I don't think you're a slimy git because you're a Slytherin, and you don't think I'm a bleeding-heart with my heart on my sleeve."

"I do, actually," he said coldly. Then he smiled. "But I like you anyway."

In moment-killing fashion, "Macho Man" came on, blasting from the record player. Remus promptly made his apologies to the girl he was with (Severus didn't know her name, but guessed that Remus stood a chance of getting lucky) before darting over to James and Sirius, all of whom started their own special Marauders' party on the dance floor.

Isolde joined Severus and Lily, and all three of them watched as boyfriends and enemies . . . well, there were no words to describe it. Their facial expressions—a queer mix of shock, confusion, amusement and embarrassment—said more than enough as they watched the boys boogie to the Village People.

Isolde was the first one to speak. "You can cut the homoerotic tension with a knife. Or is that just me?"

Lily clapped her hands over her mouth while Severus broke down in unreserved laughter, tears squeezing out of the corners of his eyes. Helene showed up with the drinks as they were still giggling like the schoolgirls only two of the three were, a puzzled look on her face. When the situation was explained, her eyes lit up with mirth, and she fought valiantly to stifle her own laughter as another, very similar incident popped into her mind.

"You think that's bad—you never saw Severus dancing like that!" He immediately pinked, but she plowed on, explaining the way Isolde and she had bullied the boys into cleaning house, and the way the girls found them—dancing with brooms and singing into hairbrushes.

"That's perfect!" Lily gasped between breaths. She simply couldn't control her laughter.

Severus glowered at all of them. "When you're done making fun of me—" he began sharply, but Helene leaned up (she was only a few inches shorter than he in her heels) and kissed him straight on the mouth, effectively stifling any further complaints. When she pulled away, there was a goofy sort of smile on his face.

A strong bass chord sounded and Isolde scampered off—"We're about to do another set!"—leaving Severus, Lily and Hermione standing together on the edge of the dance floor, chatting amiably until "Macho Man" ended and the boys returned, Remus among them, as Cindy had apparently run off somewhere else.

"Where's Peter?" James asked. "I haven't seen him, and he was here with us."

"It's crowded," Sirius replied, casting an eye around the room. "He's around somewhere."

In fact, Peter was trying to chat up a group of Isolde's cousins, Jacqueline and Cindy among them. He was waiting for the signal to come, having been told he would know it when he saw it. The room continued to fill with his associates, and he could only assume there would be more in the upstairs part of the house. It was good, he knew. Very good.

The more there were, the more likely they would succeed.

Several hours later, the party had barely begun to lag as the New Year loomed closer and closer. Isolde's voice was husky and low, even when she spoke, having performed multiple sets; she rather enjoyed it, referring to it as her "sexy voice." In fact, she was talking more often than usual.

The band was taking a break as the last five minute countdown began. The room was listening to a broadcast taking place near Big Ben so that they could hear the clock chiming when midnight came. Sirius had a small bouquet of mistletoe prepared for the occasion, and couples were already pairing up: Severus with Helene, James with Lily, Doc with Donna . . . even Remus and Cindy had found one another, if only for a brief New Year's kiss.

Once the song they were playing was over, Isolde stepped off the stage and wound her way through the crowd to Sirius, immediately throwing her arms around his neck. He caught her easily, holding her for just a moment too long, letting her linger . . .

"Last minute, everyone!" Doc called, and he hugged his children before going to his wife as the seconds ticked away.

Hermione pulled Severus to her, running her hands through his hair.

Lily's cheek rested against James's chest, and they were still dancing to the soft music behind the broadcasters on the radio.

Isolde was just gazing into Sirius's eyes as he looked into hers.

Cindy was just smiling at Remus as one of his fingers traced the rim of his glass; she knew it wasn't a forever thing, but she liked him well enough.

Donna took her husband's hand, and they surveyed the life they had made together; for a moment, the sadness of his first wife would come into his eyes, but Donna could share if she had to.

In short, it was almost perfect: a brilliant sea of faces and people scattered together like flowers in a garden. The electricity of the moment pulsed through them as they waited, breath held, for the first stroke of midnight.

It came, Big Ben striking the hour away. Doc and Donna shared a lingering kiss—just a brush of the lips, soft eyes opening and brief smiles. Lily and James were passionate, the kind of kiss they would share at their wedding and would require a bit of throat clearing to end; for now, it might be perfect. Cindy and Remus just shared a chaste peck at the lips, but it could have promised something more had she lived. Severus took control of the kiss, cradling Hermione's face between cool hands; hers grasped him tightly—they kissed like their hearts were breaking—like they were desperate to stay together, or maybe it was Hermione's imagination (she never could tell). Sirius paused for the briefest moment, laying a hand on Isolde's cheek and stroking it with his thumb before he pulled it away; just as she missed the contact, he kissed her, plain and simple—it was as bold as he was, but soothing, too.

"Auld Lang Syne" was playing on the radio, and there was dancing—it was Sirius and Isolde's first dance of the evening.

"That was," she said slowly, "my first New Year's kiss."

Sirius was only too happy to give her a second—and third—and fourth.

Severus and Hermione barely seemed to part, flowing from kiss to dance smoothly; her head rested on his shoulder, and his cheek nuzzled her hair.

"I never want this to end," he said softly—so much so she thought she'd imagined it. "I'm glad it doesn't have to."

Hermione met his eyes then, just for a moment before saying, will all the sincerity in her heart, "I love you."

Jeffrey Danger—the drummer—waited until the end of "Auld Lang Syne" to call Isolde back up, saying, "Izzy," into the microphone. Matt watched her pull away from Sirius, him giving her a long kiss on the cheek.

"You two are awfully serious," he whispered as she strapped her guitar back on. Isolde blushed, and Matt quickly added, "I'm glad. He's good for you, kid."

"Ta very much. Now, what are we doing?" Isolde asked.

This had been planned out, and no one noticed Jeffrey's glazed eyes as he suggested the song. Matt began with it on bass, and Isolde chimed in. It was a more political piece, inspired by the current guerilla warfare racking the Wizarding World, and it played so well into the theatricality so loved by Lord Voldemort.

It produced a strong reaction—brought the year in with a bang, so to speak.

Only one person was truly horrified as he listened. Severus Snape seriously wondered if Isolde was nurturing some kind of death wish.

"When you kill me," she sang, punctuating it with guitar chords, "do it slowly when we've come undone! When you kill me, please do it slowly. Send a message to the world!"

Then came a guitar solo, and it was the perfect time to strike. Without warning, provocation—without even sound, skull-masked wizards seemed to appear out of the woodwork, and it wasn't until Matt slumped over onstage that people realized just what was happening.

Isolde took one look at her brother's body—there was no other word for it, he had to be dead, hit by a jet of green light—and shouted into the microphone: "Run!"

Panic ensued, and wands were drawn in a flash. Some of the guests were lucky and made it upstairs before it was too late—upstairs was safe and good. Sirius tried blasting a few holes in the walls, but it was no good—the basement was entirely underground, and there was virtually no way out except the door at the top of the stairs, and that was currently blocked by the one thing that could sabotage Hermione's time in the past.

Lord Voldemort was descending the stairs, examining the carnage already wreaked by his Death Eaters. There was Matt, dead on the stage, and there were others—Remus's Cindy, and Isolde's aunt, a neighbor woman, Doc and Donna—gone far before they were even missed in the chaos, but still together. Some of the girls—Jacqueline, for one—were simply gone, abducted in the night.

It was a show of strength and power—a flex of the Dark Lord's growing muscles, and a way to demonstrate his growing armies and audacity.

He waded into the fray, and some of the Muggles were able to escape up the stairs and away from the attacks. The teenage wizards fought bravely, but even as they tried, it was a losing battle—there were simply too many of them, and with only the one exit, the stage was set for a massacre.


End file.
